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ROBERT HEINLEiN

literary habi(a*consist mainly of a run-
ning fight lo Hlay away from people, tele-
phones, and correspondence long enough to
get stories written down. I’ve no particular
knowledge of the techniques of writing fie-
tion and am afraid to find out, remembering
what happened lo the centipede who was
asked how he handled his legs. 1 become very
attached to my characters and kill them off
reluelantly. Am married lo a wonderfiii rarity:
an even-tempered redhead.”

MURRAY LEINSTER

”1 was a professional writer long before 1
c«>uld vote, ami to dale have had publi»he«l
about l,3fH) stories, 29 books, some motion-
pictures, radio and TV plays. I’ve been pub-
lished ill 12 languages besides English, and
in Braille. My hobby, naturally, is gadgets.
1 live in a house that was built in IfiSO, where
I enjoy writing about life in 2650.”

H. L. GOLD

“I’m 5-9, weigh 155 stripped, was born in
Montreal and educated in the U. S., am mar-
ried and have one son. While learning to
write I held the usual jobs: junior pharma-
cist, shoe salesman, floor scraper, apprentice
upholsterer, ete. My favorite job, though, was
the one where 1 used to drown — so that life-
guard students could practice rescue on me.
I've written and sold over 5,000,000 words
under 32 pen names, edited or published more
than two dozen magazines in various fields.”

^^ING STORIES, Vol. 27, No. 4, April-Moy 1953, is publishod bi-monthly by Ih* Ziff-Devis Pob-
liihmg Company ol 185 North Wabash Avonua, Chicago I, Illinois. Entared os svcend-closs matter at
the Post Otfice. Chicago, III. under the act of Morch 3, 1879. Aulherised by Post Office Department
Otiawo. Canada, as second-class maHer. Postmaster-please return undelivered copies under form
3679 to 64 E. Lake St., Chicago I, III. Subscription rotes: U. S., Canada, Mexico, Sooth and Central

S^-OO for 12 issues: British Empire and all other foreign countries,

S5v0 for 12 issues.

APRIL^AY 1953

VOLUME 37 NUMtIR 4

AMAZING

S TO R I i S

UEc;. V. S. PAT, OFF

Zlt=i=.OAVIS PUetlSHING company
Ldiioriol ar><l Sicacuiiva

364 Modlson Atf'ajt
Hf-w YorktP. Naw York

Oairman ol Board
Old Puhll<rixr

WILLIAM R. ZIFF

B. G. DAVIS

Vie# ff#«d#nff~“

H, J. MORGANROTH
Pcodocllon Dirsct.or
LVNN PHILLIPS. >R.
Adv«il»io9 Dif«ror
H. G. STRONG
CifC\»lo»iW> Oirectof
LOUIS ZARA
Adortaie Cdiiorial Ol'oeroi'

Sac'«ro»/- Ireawrsr

G. e. CARNTY

An OlriKfor

ALBERT CRUEN

CONTENTS

MARS CONFIDENTIAL

By Jack Lolt and L#e Mortirtior 4

PROJECT NIGHTMARE

By Robert H«tnl#{rt 20

NO CHAR61 FOR ALTERATIONS

By H. L Gold 40

THE WAV HOME

By Thoodor# Sturgeon 62

TURNOVER POINT

By Alfred Coppal. 70

•ELLY LAUGH

By Ivor Jorgemen 76

THE LAST DAY

By Richard Malheien 92

THE INVADERS

By Murroy L«In«t*r 107

CLASSIC SHORT STOR'i :

HERE THERE BE TYGERS

By Roy Bradbury 80

Covert Boryo Phillipe

Editor

HOWARD BROWNE

Managing Editor Assistant Editor

PAUL W. FAIRMAN MICHA^ KAGAN

Art Editor
L R. SUMMtERS

CopyriQtit 1 969 br tl>« Ziff-Dcrvii PwbliiMnQ Conpony. AO tlghti ressH-vad.

MARS CONFIDENTIAL!

Jack Lait & Lee Mortimer

Here is history’s bi^^est news scoop! Those intrepid reporters
Jack ImU and Lee Mortimer, whose best-selling exposes oflije’s
seamy side from New York to Medicine Hat hn%>e made them
famous, here strip away the veil of millions of miles to bring
you the lowdown on our sister planet. It is an amazing account
of vice and violence, of virtues and victims, told in vivid,
jet-speed style.

Here you'll learn why Mars is called the Red Planet, the
part the Mafia plays in her undoing, the rape and rapine
that has made this heavenly body the cesspool of the Universe.
In other words, this is Mars — Confidential!

T^.c.e.c.c.f f

HERE WE GO AGAIN —
Confidential.

We Uiriietl New York Inside
out. We turned Chicago upside
down. In Washington we turned
the insiders out and the outsiders
in. The howls can still be heard
since we dissected the U.S..A.

But Mars was our toughest
task of siwctroscoping. The cab

drivers spoke a different language
atui the Ijoll-hops ('ouldn’l read
our currency. Yet, we think we
liave X-rayed the dizziest and
litis mayamaze you — lliediniesL
planet in the solar system. Beside
it, tlie Earth is as white as the
Moon, and Chicago is as peaceful
as the Milky Way.

By the time we went through
Mars — its canals, its caves, its

satellites and its catacombs - — we
knew more about it than anyone
who lives there.

We make no attempt to be
comprehensive. We have no hope
or aim to make Mars a better
place in which to live; in fact, we
don’t give a damn what kind of a
place it Is to live in.

This will be the story of a planet
that could have been another
proud and majestic sun with a
solar system of its own; it ended
up, instead, in the comic books
and the pulp magazines.

Wc give you MARS confiden-
tial!

THE LOWDOWN
CONFIDENTIAL

Before the space ship which
brings the arriving traveler
lauds at the Martian National
Airport, it swoops gracefully over
the nearby city in a salute. J he
narrow ribbons, laid out in geo-
metric order, gradually grow wider
until the water in these man-
made rivers becomes crystal clear
and sparkles in the reflection of
the sun.

As Mars comes closer, the visi-
tor from Earth quickly realizes it
has a manner and a glamor of its
own; it is unworldy, it is out of
this world. It Is not the air of dis-
tinction one finds in New York or
London or Paris. The Martian
feeling is dreamlike; it comes from

being close to the stuff dreams are
made of.

However, after the sojourner
lands, he discovers that Mars is
not much different than the planet
he left; indeed, men are pretty
much the same all over the uni-
.verse, whether they carry their
plumbing inside or outside their
bodies.

As we unfold the rates of crime,
vice, sex irregularities, graft,
cheap gambling, drunkenness,
rowdyism and rackets, yon will
get, thrown on a large screen, a
peep show you never saw on your
TV during the science-fiction hour.

Each day the Earth man spends
on Mars makes him feel more at
home; thus, it comes as no sur-
prise to the initiated that even
here, at least 35,000,000 miles
away from Times Square, there
are hoodlums who talk out of the
sides of their mouths and drive
expensive convertibles with white-
walled tires and yellow-haired
frails. For the Mafia, the dread
Black Hand, is in business here —
tied up with the subversives —
and neither the Martian Commit-
tee for the Investigation of Crime
and Vice, nor the Un-Martian
Activities Committee, can dent it
more than the Kefauver Commit-
tee did on Earth, which is prac-
tically less than nothing.

This is the first time this story
has been printed. We were olTered
four trillion dollars in bribes to

AMAZING STORIES

liold il up; our lives were threat-
encci and we were shot at with
death ray guns.

We got this one night oti the
fourtli bench in Central Park,
where we met by appointment a
man who phoned us earlier but
refused to tell his name. When we
took one look at him we did not
ask for his credentials, we just
knew he came from Mars.

'Phis is what he told us:

Shortly after the end of World
War II, a syndicate composed of
underworld big-shots from Chi-
cago, Detroit and Greenpoint
planned to build a new Las Vegas
in the Nevada desert. This was to
be a plush project for big spend-
ers. with Vegas and Reno reserved
for the hoi-iX)lloi.

'I'here was to be service by a
private airline. It would be so
ultra-ultra that suckers with only
a million would be thumbed away
and guys with two million would
have to come in through the back
dwr.

The Mafia sent a couple of front
men to explore the desert. Some-
where out beyond the atom proj-
ect they stumbled on what seemed
to be the answer to their prayer.

It was a huge, mausoleum-Hke
structure, standing alone in the
desert hundreds of miles from no-
where, unique, exclusive and mys-
terious. The prosi>ectors assumed
it was the last remnant of some
fabulous and long-dead ghost-
mining town.

The entire population consisted
of one, a little duffer with a white
goatee and thick lensed specta-
cles, wearing boots, chaps and a
silk Iial.

“This your place, bud?” one of
the hoods asked.

When he signilied it was, the
boys bought it. The price was
agreeable — after they pulled a
wicked-looking rod.

Then the money guys came to
look over their purchase. They
couldn’t make head or tail of it,
and you can hardly blame them,
because inside the great structure
they found a huge contraption
that looked like a cigar (Havana
Perfecto) standing on end.

“What the hell is this,” they
asked the character in the opera
hat, in what is known as a menac-
ing attitude.

The old pappy guy offered to
show them. He escorted them into
the cigar, pressed a button here
and there, and before you could
say “AI Capone” the rcM)f of the
shed slid back and they began to
move upward at a terrific rate of
speed.

Three or four of the Mafia
chieftains were old hop-heads and
felt at home. In fact, one of them
remarked, “Boy, are we gone."
And he was right.

The soberer Mafistas, after re-
covering from their first shock,
laid ungentle fists on their con-
ductor.

MARS CONFIDENTIAL

‘‘What Roes on? ” he was asked.

“This is a space ship and we
arc headed for Mars.”

“What’s Mars?”

“A planet up in space, loaded
with gold and diamonds.”

“Any bims there?”

“I beg your pardon, sir. What
are bims?”

“Get a load of this dope. He
never heard of bims. Babes,
broads, frails, pigeons,, ribs —
catch on?”

“Oh, I assume you mean girls.
There must be, otherwise what
are the diamonds for?”

The outward trip t(X)k a week,
but it was spent pleasantly. Dur-
ing that time, the Miami delega-
tion cleaned out Chicago, New
York and Pittsburgh in a klabiash
game.

The hop back, for various rea-
sons, took a little longer. One rea-
son may have been the condition
of the crew. On the return the
boys from Brooklyn were primed
to the ears with sorkle.

Zorkle is a Martian medicinal
distillation, made from the milk
of the schznoogle — a six-legged
cow, seldom milked because few
Martians can run fast enough to
catch one. Zorkle is strong enough
to rip steel plates out of battle-
ships, but to stomachs accustomed
to the blulT sold in Platbush, it
acted like a gentle stimulant.

Upon their safe landing in
Nevada, the Columbuses of this
first flight to Mars put in long-

distance calls to all the other im-
portant hoods In the country.

The Crime Cartel met in Cleve-
land — in the third floor front of
a tenement on Mayfield Road.
The purpose of the meeting was to
“cut up” Mars.

Considerable dissension arose
over the bookmaking facilities,
when it was learned that the radio-
active surface of the planet made
it unnecessary to send scratches
and results by wire. On the con-
trary, the steel-shod hooves of the
animals set up a current wliich
carried into every pool room,
without a pay-off to the wire
service.

The final division found the
apportionment as follows:

New York mob: Real
estate and invest-
ments (if any)

Chicago mob: Book-
making and liquor
(if any)

Brooklyn mob: Pro-
tection and assas-
sinations

Jersey mob: Num-
bers (if any) and
craps (if any)

Los Angeles mob:

Girls (if any)

Galveston and Ne^v
Orleans mobs: Dope
(if any)

Cleveland mob: Ca-
sinos (if any)

Detroit mob: Sum-
mer resorts (if any)

AM.'\7.ING STOHIES

The Detroit boys, incidentally,
burned up when they learned the
Martian year is twice as long as
ours, consequently it takes two
years for one summer to roll
around.

After the summary demise of
three Grand Councilors whose
deaths were recorded by the press
as occurring from “natural
causes,” the other major and
minor mobs were declared in as
partners.

The first problem to be ironed
out was how to speed up trans-
portation : and failing that, to con-
struct spacious space ships which
would attract pleasure-bent trade
from Terra — Earth to you —
with such innovations as roulette
wheels, steam rooms, cocktail
lounges, double rooms with hot
and cold babes, and other such
inducements.

THE INSIDE STUFF
CONFIDENTIAL

Remember, you got this first
from Lait and Mortimer. And we
defy anyone to call us liars — and
prove it!

Only chumps bring babes with
them to Mars. The temperature is
a little colder there than on Earth
and the air a little thinner. So
Terra dames complain one mink
coat doesn’t keep them warm;
they need two.

On the other hand, the gravity

is considerably less than on Earth .
Therefore, even the heaviest
bim weighs less and can be pushed
over with the greatest of ease.

However, the boys soon discov-
ered that the lighter gravity
played havoc with the marijuana
trade. With a slight tensing of
the muscles you can jump 20 feet,
so why smoke “tea” when you
can fly like crazy for nothing?

Martian women are bags, so
perhaps you had better disregard
the injunction above and bring
your own, even if it means two
furs.

Did you ever see an Alaska
klutch (pronounced klootch)?
Probably not. Well, these Arctic
horrors are Ziegfeld beauts com-
pared to the Martian fair sex.

They slouch with knees bent
and knuckles brushing the ground,
and if Ringling Bros, is looking
for a mate for Gargantua, here is
where to find her. Yet, their man-
ner is habitually timid, as though
they’ve been given a hard time.
From the look in their deep-set
eyes they seem to fear abduction
or rape; but not even the zoot-
suited goons from Greenpernt
gave them a second tumble.

The visiting Mafia delegation
was naturally disappointed at this
state of affairs. They had been
led to believe by the little guy
who escorted them that all Mar-
tian dames resembled Marilyn
Monroe, only moi'e so, and the
men were Adonises (and not Joe).

MAKS CONFIDENTIAL

Seems they once were, at that.
This was a couple of aeons ago
when Earthmen looked like Mar-
tians do now, which seems to
indicate that Martians, as well as
Men, have their ups and downs.

The citizens of the planet are
apparently about halfway down
the toboggan. They wear clothes,
but they're not handstitched.
Their neckties don’t come from
Sulka. No self-respecting goon
from Gowanub would care to be
seen in their company.

The females always appear in
public fully clolhetl, which doesn't
help them either. But covering
their faces would. They buy their
dresses at a place called Kress-
Worth and look like Baris noii-
veaii riche.

There are four separate nations
there, though nation is hardly the
word, it is more accurate to aiiy
there are four separate clans that
don’t like each other, though how
they can tell the difference is
beyond us. They are known as the
East Side, West Side, North Si<le
and Gas House gangs.

Each stays in its own back-
yard. Periodic wars are fought, a
few thousand of the enemy are
dissolved with ray guns, after
which the factions retire by com-
mon consent and throw a banquet
at which the losing country is
forced to take the wives of the
visitors, which is a twist not yet
tliought of on Earth.

Martian language is unlike

anything ever heard below, ft
would baffle the keenest linguist,
if the keenest linguist ever gets to
Mars. However, the Mafia, which
is a world-wide blood brotherhood
with colonies in every lan<l and
clime, has a universal language.
Knives and brass knucks arc
understood everywhere.

The Martian lingo seems to Ik*
somewhat similar to Chinese. It’s
not what they say, but how they
Siiy it. For instance, psonqule may
mean “ J love you” or “you dirty
son-of-a-bitch.”

The Mafistas soon learned to
translate what the natives were
saying by watching the squint in
their eyes. When they siK)ke with
a certain expression, the mobsters
let go with 45s, which, however,
merely have a stunning effect on
the gent on the receiving cn<l
because of the lesser gravity.

On the other hand, tlie Martian
death ray guns were not fatal to
the toughs from h'arlh; .anyone
who can live through St. Valen-
tine’s Day in Chicago can live
through anything. So it came out
a dead heat.

Thereupon the boys from the
Syndicate sat down and declaretl
the Martians in for a lifty-fifty
partnership, which means they
actually gave them one per cent,
which is generous at that.

Never having had the great
advantages of a New Deal, the
Martians arc still backward ami
use gold as a means of exchange.

AMAZING STOKIICS

With no Harvard bigdonies to tell
them gold is a thing of the past,
the yellow metal circulates there
as freely and easily as we once
kicked pennies around before
they became extinct here.

The Mafistas quickly set the
Martians right about the futility
of gold. They eagerly turned it
over to the Earthinen in exchange
for green certificates with pretty
pictures engraved thereon.

Ill

RACKETS VIA ROCKETS

Gold, platinum, diamonds and
other precious stuff are as plenti-
ful on Mars as hayfever is on
Earth in August.

When the gangsters lamped the
loot, their greedy eyes and greasy
fingers twitched, and when a
hood’s eyes and fingers twitch,
watch out; something is twitch-
ing.

The locals were completely
honest. They were too dumb to be
thieves. The natives were not
acquisitive. Why should they be
when gold was so common it had
no value, and a neighbor’s wife so
ugly no one would covet her?

This was a desperate situation,
indeed, until one of the boys from
East St. Louis uttered the eternal
truth : “There ain’t no honest man
who ain’t a crook, and why should
Mars be any different?”

The difficulty was finding the
means and method of corruption.

All the cash in Jake Guzik’s
strong box meant nothing to a race
of characters whose brats made
mudpies of gold dust.

The discovery came as an acci-
dent.

The first Earthman to be elim-
inated on Mars was a two-bit
hood from North Clark Street
who sold a five-cent Hershey bar
with almonds to a Martian for a
gold piece worth 94 bucks.

The man from Mars bit the
candy bar. The hood bit the gold
piece.

Then the Martian picked up a
rock and bcaned the lad from the
Windy City. After which the
Martian’s eyes dilated and he let
out a scream. Then he attacked
the first Martian female who
passed by. Never before had such
a thing happened on Mars, and to
say she was surprised is putting it
lightly. Thereupon, half the fe-
male population ran after the
berserk Martian.

When the organization heard
about this, an Investigation was
ordered. That is how the crime
trust found out that there is no
sugar on Mars; that this was the
first time it had ever been tasted
by a Martian ; that it acts on them
like junk does on an Earthman.

They further discovered that
the chief source of Martian diet is
— believe It or not — poppy seed,
hemp and coca leaf, and that the
alkaloids thereof: opium, hash-
heesh and cocaine have not the

MARS CONFIDENTIAL

slightest visible effect on them.

Poppies grow everywhere, huge
russet poppies, ten times as large
as those on Earth and 100 times
as deadly. It is these poppies
which have colored the planet red.
Martians are strictly vegetarian:
they bake, fry and stew these
flowers and weeds and eat them
raw with a goo made from fungus
and called sschniorts which passes
for a salad dressing.

Though the Martians were
absolutely impervious to the nar-
cotic qualities of the aforemen-
tioned flora, they got higher than
Mars on small doses of sugar.

So the Mafia was in business.
The Martians sniffed granulated
sugar, which they called snow.
They ate cube sugar, which they
called “hard stuff", and they
injected molasses syrup into their
veins with hypos and called this
“matnliners.”

There was nothing they would
not do for a pinch of sugar. Gold,
platinum and diamonds, nar-
cotics by the acre — these were
to be had in generous exchange
for sugar — which was selling on
Earth at a nickel or so a pouiid
^yholesale.

The space ship went into shut-
tle service. A load of diamonds
and dope coming back, a load of
sugar and blondes going up.
Blondes made Martians higher
even than sugar, and brought
larger and quicker returns.

This is a confidential tip to the

South African diamond trust: ten
space ship loads of precious stones
are now being cut in a cellar on
Bleecker Street in New York.
The mob plans to retail them for
$25 a carat!

Though the gangsters are buy-
ing sugar at a few cents a pound
here and selling it for its weight
in rubies on Mars, a hood is al-
ways a hood. They’ve been cut-
ting dope with sugar for years on
Earth, so they didn’t know how
to do it any different on Mars.
What to cut the sugar with on
Mars? Simple. With heroin, of
course, which is worthless there.

This is a brief rundown on the
racket situation as it currently
exists on our sister planet.

FAKED PASSPORTS: When
the boys first landed they found
only vague boundaries between
the nations, and Martians could
roam as they pleased. Maybe this
is why they stayed close to home.
Though anyway why should they
travel? There was nothing to
see.

The boys quickly took care of
this. First, in order to make travel
alluring, Lliey brought 20 strippers
from Calumet City and set them
peeling just beyond the border
lines.

Then they went to the chief-
tains and sold them a bill of
goods (with a generous bribe of
sugar) to close the borders. 'Fhe
next step was to corrupt the bor-
der guards, which was easy with

AMAZING STORIES

Annie Oakleys to do the burlesque
shows.

The selling price for faked pass-
ports fluctuates between a ton
and three tons of platinum.

VICE: Until the arrival of the
Karllunen, there were no illicit
sexual relations on the planet. In
fad, no Martian in his right mind
would have relations with the
native crop of females, and they
in turn felt the same way about
the males. I^ws had to be passed
requiring all able-b(xlie<l citizens
to marry and propagate.

'I'hus, the hrst load of bims
from South Akard Street in Dallas
found eager customers. But these
babes, who romanced anything in
pants on earth, went on a stand-up
strike when they saw and smelled
the Martians. Especially smelled.
They smelled worse than Texas
yahoos just ofT a cow farm.

This proved embarrassing, to
say the least, to the procurers.
Considerable sums of money were
invested in this human cargo, and
the boys feared dire consequences
from their shylocks, should they
return empty-handed.

In our other Conridentlal essays
we told you how the Mafia em-
ploys some of the best brains on
Earth to direct aiul manage its
far-flung properties, including
high-priced attorneys, account-
ants. real-estate experts, engi-
neers and scientists.

A hurried meeting of the Grand
Council was called and held in a

bungalow on the shores of one of
Minneapolis’ beautiful lakes. The
decision reached there was to cor-
ner chlorophyl (which accounts in
part for the delay in putting it on
the market down here) an<.l ship it
to Mars to deodorize the populace
there. After which the ladies of
tlie evening got off their feet and
went back to work.

GAMBLING: Until the arrival
of the Mafia, gambling on Mars
was confined to a simple game
played with children’s jacks. The
loser had to relieve the winner of
his wife.

The Mafia brought up some
^nc gambling equipment, includ-
ing the layouts from the Colonial
Inn in Florida, and the Beverly in
New Orelans, both of which were
closed, and taught the residents
how to shoot craps and play the
wheel, with the house putting up
sugar against precious stones and
metals. With such odds, it was
not necessary to fake the games
more than is customary on Earth.

LITTLE NEW YORK
CONFIDENTIAL

Despite what Earth-hountl pro-
fessors tell you about the Martian
atmosphere, we know better. They
weren’t there.

It is a dogma that Mars has no
oxygen. Baloney. While it is true
that there is considerably less
than on Earth in the surface at-

MARS CONFIDENTIAL

mosphcre, tlic air underground, in
eaves, valleys and tunnels, has
plenty to support life lavishly,
though why Martians want to live
after they look at each other wc
cannot tell you, even confidential.

I'or this reason Martian cities
are built underground, and travel
between them is carried on through
a complicated system of subways
predating the New York IRT line
by several thousand centuries,
though to the naked eye there is
little dilTerence between a Brook-
lyn express and a Mars express,
yet the latter were built before
the Pyramids.

When the first load of Black ^
Handers arrived, they naturally
balked against living underground.
It remindctl them too muc'h of the
days before they went “legiti-
mate” and were constantly on the
lam and hiding out.

So tlic Mafia put the Martians
to work building a town. There
are no building materials on the
planet, but the Marti.ins are
adept at making gold dust hold
togetlier with diamond rivets. The
result of their effort — for which
they were paid in peppermint
sticks and lump sugar — is named
Little New York, with hotels,
nightclubs, bars, haberdashers,
Turkish baths and horse rooms.
Instead of air-conditioning, it had
oxygen-conditioning. But the town
had no police station.

'I’here were no cops!

Finally, a meeting was held at

which one punk asked another,
“WTiat the hell kind of town is it
with no cops? Who we going to
bribe?”

After some discussion they cut
cards. One of the Bergen County
boys drew the black ace. “What
do I know about being a cop?” he
squawked.

“You can take graft, can’t
you? You been shook down, ain’t
you?”

The boys also imported a cou-
ple of smart mouthpieces and a
ship of blank habeas corpus forms,
together with a judge who was the
brother of one of the lawyers, so
there was no need to build a jail
in this model city.

The only ones who ever get
arrested, anyway, are the Mar-
tians, and they soon discovered
that the coppers from Terra would
look the other way for a bucket
full of gold.

Until the arrival of the Earth-
men, the Martians were, as stated,
peaceful, and even now crime is
practically unknown among them.
The chief problem, however, is to
keep them in line on pay nights,
wlieii they go on sugar binges.

Chocolate bars are as common
on Mars as saloons are on Broad-
way, and It Is not unusual to see
“gone” Martians getting heaved
out of these bars right into the
gutter. One nostalgic hood from
Seattle said it reminded him of
Skid Row there.

AM.AZING STORIES

THE RED RED PLANET

The jranjfsters had not been on
Mars long before they heard ru-
mors about other outsiders who
were supposed to have landed on
the other side of Ml. Sirehum.

The boys got together in a cock-
tail lounge to talk this over, and
they decided they weren’t going
to stand for any other mobs mus-
cling in.

Thereupon, they despatched
four torpedoes with Tommy guns
in a big black limousine to see
what was going.

We tell you this Confidential.
What they found was a Commu-
nist apparatus sent to Mars from
Soviet Russia.

This cell was so active that
Commies had taken over almost
half the planet before the arrival
of the Mafia, with their domain
extending from the Deucalionis
Region all the way over to Pha-
elhoniis and down to Tilania.

Furthermore, through propa-
ganda and infiltration, there were
Communist cells in every quarter
of the planet, and many of the
top officials of the four Martian
governments were either secretly
party members or openly in fronts.

The Communist battle cry was:
“Men of Mars unite; you have
nothing to lose but your wives.”

Comes the revolution, they
were told, and all Martians could
remain bachelors. It is no wonder

the Communists made such in-
roads. The planet became known
as “The Red Planet.”

In their confidential books about
the cities of Earth, 1 .ait and Mor-
timer explored the community of
interest between the organized
underworld and the Soviet.

Communists are in favor of
anything that causes civil disorder
and unrest: gangsters have no
conscience and will do business
with anyone who pays.

On Earth, Russia floods the
Western powers, and especially
the United States, with narcotics,
first to weaken them and provide
easy prey, and second, for dollar
exchange.

And on Earth, the Mafia, which
is another international conspir-
acy like the Communists, sells the
narcotics.

At.\RS CONFIDENTIAL

And so when the gangsters
heard there were Communist cells
on Mars, they quickly made a
contact.

For most of the world’s cheap
sugar comes from Russia 1 The
Mafia inroad on the American
sugar market had already driven
cane up more than 300 per cent.
But the Russians were anxious,
able and willing to provide all the
beets they wanted at half the com-
petitive price.

THE HONEST HOODS

As we pointed out in previous
works, the crime syndicate now
owns so much money, its chief
problem is to find ways in which
to invest it.

As a result, the Mafia and its
allies control thousands of legiti-
mate enterprises ranging from ho-

tel chains to railroads and from
laundries to distilleries.

And so it was on Mars. With all
the rackets cornered, the gang-
sters decided it was time to go
into some straight businesses.

At the next get-together of the
Grand Council, the following con-
versation was heard :

“What do these mopes need
that they ain’t getting?”

“A big fat hole in the head.”

“Cut it out. This is serious.”

“A hole in the head ain’t seri-
ous?”

"There’s no profit in them one-
shot deals.”

“It’s the repeat business you
make the dough on.”

“Maybe you got something
there. You can kill a jerk only
once.”

“But a jerk can have rela-
tives.”

“We’re talking about legit stuff.

AMAZING STORIES

All the rest has been taken care
of.”

■‘With the Martians I’ve seen,
a bar of soap could be a big
thing.”

From this random suggestion,
there sprang up a major intcr-
I)lanetary project. If the big soap
companies are wondering where
all that soap went a few years ago,
we can tell them.

It went to Mars.

* Soap caught on immediately.
It was snapped up as fast as it ar-
rived.

But several (juestions ix>pix.h1
into the minds of the Mafia soap
salesman.

Where was it all going? A
Martian, in line for a bar in tiie
evening, was back again the fol-
lowing morning for another one.

And why did the Martians stay
just as dirty as ever?

'I'he answer was, the Martians

stayed as dirty as ever because
they weren’t using the soap to
wash with. They were eating it!

It cured the hangover from
sugar.

Another group cornered the un-
dertaking business, adding a twist
that made for more activity. 'Fhey
added a Department of Elimina-
tion. The men in ch.arge of this
end of the business circulate
through the ch(x:olate and soap
bars, politely inquiring, ‘‘Who
would you like killed?”

Struck with the novelty of the
thing, quite a few Martians re-
member other Martians they ard
mad at. The going price is one
hundred carats of diamonds to
kill; which is cheap considering
the average laborer earns 10,000
carats a week.

Then the boys from the more
dignified end of the business <lrop
in at the home of the victim and

MARS CONFIDENTIAL

offtT to bury him cheap. Two hun-
dred and fifty carats gets a Mar-
tian planted in style.

Inasmuch as Martians live un-
derground, burying is done in
reverse, by tying a rocket to the
tail of the deceased and shooting
hint out into the stratosphere.

VII

ONE UNIVERSE
CONFIDENTIAL

Mars is presently no problem
to Earth, and will not be until we
have all its gold and the Martians
begin asking us for loans.

Meanwhile, Lait and Mortimer
say let the gangsters and com-
munists have it. We don’t want
it.

We believe Earth would weaken

itself if It dissi|xiled its assets
on foreign planets. Instead, we
should heavily arm our own satel-
lites, which will make us secure
from attack by an alien planet or
constellation.

At the same time, we should
build an overw’helming force of
space ships capable of delivering
lethal blows to the outermost
corners of the universe and return
without refueling.

VVe have seen the futility of
meddling in everyone’s business
on Earth. Let's not make that
mistake in space. We are unalter-
ably opposed to the UP (United
Planets) and call upon the gov-
ernments of Earth not to join that
T n ter-Solar System lioondoggic.

We have enough trouble right
here.

THE APPENDIX CONFIDENTIAL:

Blast-off: The equivalent of the take-off
of Terran aviation. Space ships
blast-off into space. Not to be
confused w'ith the report of a
sawed-off shot gun.

Blcsthig pit: Place from which a space
ship blasts off. Guarded area
where the intense heat from the
jets melts the ground. Also used
for cock-fights.

Spacemen: Those who man the space
ships. See any comic strip.

Hairoscope: A very sensitive instru-
ment for space navigation. The
sighting plate thereon is cen-

tered around two crossed hairs.
Because of the vastness of space.'
very fine hairs are used. These
hairs are obtained from the
Glomph-Frog, found only in the
heart of the dense Venusian
swamps. The hairoscop>e is a
must in space navigation. Then
how did they get to Venus to
get the hair from the Glomph-
Frog? Read Venus Confiden-
tial.

Multiplanetary agitation: The inter-
spacial methods by which the
Russians compete for the minds

AM.\ZING STORIES

of the Neptunians and the Pluto-
nians and the Gowaniuns.

Space suit: The clothing worn by those
who go into space. The men are
put into modernistic diving suits.
The dames wear bras and pan-
ties.

Orav-plaUs: A form of magnetic shoe
worn by spacemen while stand-
ing on the outer hull of a space
ship halfway to Mars. VV'hy a
spaceman wants to stand on the
outer hull of a ship halfway to
Mars is not clear. Possibly to
win a bet.

Space platform: A man-made satellite
rotating around Earth between
here and the Moon. Scientists
say this is a necessary first step
to interplanetary travel. Mars
Confidential proves the fallacy
of this theory.

Space Academy: A college where young
men are trained to he space-
men. The student body consi,sts
mainly of cadets who served
apprenticeships as elevator jock-
eys.

AsUruids: Tiny worlds floating around
in space, put there no doubt to
annoy unwary space ships.

Extrapolation: The process by wliich a
science-fiction writer takes an
established scientific fact and
builds thereon a story that
couldn’t happen in a million
years, but maybe 2,000,000.

Science fiction: A genre of escape litera-
ture which takes the reader to
far-away planets — and usually
neglects to bring him back.

S.F.: An abbreviation for science fic-
tion.

Bern: A word derived by using the firet
letters of the three words; Bug

Eyed Monster. Bems are ghastly
looking creatures in general. In
science-fiction yarns written by
Terrans, bems are natives of
Mars. In science-fiction yarns
written by Martians, bems are
natives of Terra.

The pile: The source from which power
is derived to carry men to the
stars. Optional on the more ex-
pensive space ships, at extra
cost.

Atom blaster: A gun carried by space-
men which will melt people down
to a cinder. A .45 would do just
as well, but then there’s the
Sullivan Act.

Orbit: The path of any heavenly body.
The bodies are held in these
orbits by natural laws the Re-
publicans are thinking of repeal-
ing.

Nova: The explosive stage into which
planets may pass. According to
the finest scientific thinking, a
planet will either nova, or it
won’t.

Galaxy: A term used to confuse people
who have always called it Tlie
Milky Way.

Sun spots: Vast electrical storms on the
sun which interfere with radio
reception, said interference be-
ing advantageous during polit-
ical campaigns.

Atomic cannons: Things that go zap.

Audio screen: Television without Mil-
ton Berle or wrestling.

Disintegrating ray: Something you
can't see that turns something
you can see into something you
can’t see.

Geiger counter: Something used to
count Geigers.

{Continued on page 161)

M.VRS CONFIDENTIAL

lUnslralor: William Ashman

PROJECT

NIQHTMARE

by ROBERT HEINLEIN

You’ve heard, of course, the theory that an enemy can hide atom bombs
in our cities, then call on us to surrender or be blcnvn to bits. Say such
bombs were planted; what could we do about it? Find them before they
explode? How? No mechanical means exist to do the job, nor can
every building in forty cities be searched in, say, two hours. Since
Americans don't quit under any circumstances, what's the answer?

Robert Ileinlein, Mr. Science Fiction himself, has taken this same
situation and woven it into an exciting hunk of melodrama. While his
solution to the problem is unique and ingenious, it is solidly based
on a phenomenon most of us have run across at one time or another.

Fur’s your ix)int. Roll ’em!”

“Anybody want a side bet on double deuces?”

No one answered; the old soldier rattled dice in a glass,
pitched them against the washroom wall. One turned up a
deuce; the other spun. Somebody yelled, “It’s going to
five! Come, Phoebe!”

It stopped — a two. The old soldier said, “ 1 told you not
to play with me. Anybody want cigarette money?”

“Pick it up. Pop. We don’t — oh, oh ! ’Tanshun!”

In the door stood a civilian, a colonel, and a captain. The

civilian said, "Give the money
back, Two-Gun."

"Okay, Prof." The old soldier
extracted two singles. ‘‘That
much is mine."

"Stop!" objected the captain.
‘‘I’ll impound that for evidence.
Now, you men -

The colonel stopped him.
‘‘Mick. Forget that you’re ad-
jutant. Private Andrews, come
along." He went out; the others
followed. Tliey hurried through
the enlisted men's club, out into
desert sunshine and across the
<juadrangle.

The civilian said, "Two-Gun,
■what the deuce!”

"Shucks, Prof, I was just prac-
ticing,”

"Why don’t you practice against
<jrandma Wilkins?”

The soldier snorted. " Do I look
silly?"

The colonel put in, "You’re
keeping a crowd of generals and
V.l.P.s waiting. That isn’t bright.”

“Colonel Hammond, I was told
to wait in the club.”

"But not in its washroom.
Step it up!”

They went inside headquarters
to a hall where guards checked
their passes before letting them
in. A civilian was speaking:

— and that’s the story of the
history-making experiments at
Duke University. Doctor Reyn-
olds is back; he will conduct the
demonstrations.”

The officers sat down in the

rear; Dr. Reynolds went to the
speaker’s table. Private Andrews
sat down with a group set apart
from the high brass and distin-
guished civilians of the audience.
A character who looked like a
professional gambler — and was
sat next to two beautiful red-
heads, identical twins. A four-
teen-year-old Negro boy slumped
in the next chair; he seemed
asleep. Beyond him a most wide-
awake person, Mrs. Anna Wil-
kins, tatted and looked around.
In the second row were college
students and a drab middle-aged
man.

The table held a chuck-a-luck
cage, packs of cards, scratch pads,
a Geiger counter, a lead carrying
case. Reynolds leaned on it and
said, "Extra-Sensory Perception,
or E.S.P., is a tag for little-known
phenomena — telepathy, clair-
voyance, clairaudience, precogni-
tion, telekinesis. They exist ; we
can measure them; we know that
some people are thus gifted. But
we don’t know how they work.
The British, In India during
World War One, found that se-
crets were being stolen by telep-
athy." Seeing doubt in their faces
Reynolds added, "It is conceiva-
ble that a spy five hundred miles
away is now ‘listening in’ — and
picking your brains of top-secret
data."

Doubt was more evident. A
four-star Air Force general sai<l.

AMAZING STORIKS

“One moment, Doctor — if true,
what can we do to stop it?"

“Nothing."

“That's no answer. A lead-
lined room?"

“We've tried that, General. No
effect. ”

“Jamming with high frequen-
cies? Or whatever ‘brain waves’
are?"

“Possibly, though I doubt it.
If E.S.P. becomes militarily im-
portant you may have to operate
with all facts known. Back to our
program: These ladies and gentle-
men are powerfully gifted in tele-
kinesis, the ability to control mat-
ter at a distance. Tomorrow’s ex-
periment may not succeed, but
wc hope to convince the doubting
Thomases" — he smiled at a man
in the rear — “that it is worth
trying."

The man he looked at stood up.
“General Hanby!"

An Army major general looked
around. "Yes, Doctor Withers?"

"1 ask to be excused. My desk
is loaded with urgent work —
and these games have nothing to
do witii me.”

The commanding general started
to assert himself; the four-star
visitor put a hand on his sleeve.
“ Doctor Withers, my desk in
Washington is piled high, but I
am here because the President
sent me. Will you please stay?
I want a skeptical check on my
judgment."

Withers sat down, still angry.

Reynolds continued: “We will
start with E.S.P. rather than tele-
kinesis — which is a bit different,
anyhow.” He turntKl to one of
the redheads. “Jane, will you
come here? "

The girl answered, “Pm Joan.
Sure."

“All right — Joan. General La-
Moti, will you draw something on
this scratch pad?”

The four-star flyer cocked an
eyebrow. “Anything?”

“Not too complicated.”

“Right, Doctor.” He thought,
then began a cartoon of a girl,
grinned and added a pop-eyerl
wolf. Shortly he looked up.
“Okay?”

Joan had kept busy with an-
other pad; Reynolds took hers to
the general. The sketches were
alike — except that Joan had
added four stars to the wolf’s
shoulders. The general looked at
her; she looked demure. “I'm
convinced," he said drily. “What
next?”

“That could be clairvoyance
or telepathy," Reynolds lectured.
“We will now show direct telep-
athy.” He called the second twin
to him, then said, “Doctor With-
ers, will you help us?”

Withers still looked surly.
“With what?"

“The same thing — but Jane
will watch over your shoulder
while Joan tries to reproduce
what you draw. Make it some-
thing harder.”

PROJECT NIGHTMARE

“Well . . . okay.” He took the
pad, began sketching a radio cir-
cuit while Jane watched. He
signed it with a “Clem”, the
radioman’s cartoon of the little
fellow peering over a fence.

“That’s fine!” said Reynolds.
“Finished, Joan?”

“Yes, Do('tor.” He fetched her
pad; the diagram was correct —
but Joan had added to “Clem”
a wink.

Reynolds Interrupted awed
comment with, “I will skip card
demonstrations and turn to tele-
kinesis. “Has anyone a pair of
dice?” No one volunteered; he
went on, “We have some supplied
by your physics department. 'I'his
chuck-a-luck cage is signed and
sealed by them and so is this
package.” Me broke it open,
spilled out a dozen dice. “'Pwo-
Gun, how about some naturals?”

“ ril try, Prof.”

“General LaMott, please select
a pair and put them in this cup.”

The general complied and
handed the cup to Andrews.
“What are you going to roll,
soldier? ”

"Would a si.xty-five suit the
General?”

“ If you can.”

“Would the Genera! care to
put up a five spot, to make it in-
teresting?” He waited, wide-eyed
and innocent.

La Mott grinned. “You're
faded, soldier.” He peeled out a

five; Andrews covered it, rat-
tled the cup and rolled. One die
stopped on the bills — a five.
The other bounced against a chair
— a six.

“Let it ride, sir?”

“I’m not a sucker twice. Show
us some naturals.”

“As you say, sir.” Two-Gun
picked up the money, then rolled
6-1, 5-2, 4-3, and back again.
He rolled several 6-ls, then got
snake eyes. He tried again, got
acey-deucey. lie faced the little
old lady. “Ma’am,” he said, “if
you want to roll, why don't you
get down here and do the work?”

“Why, Mr. Andrews!”

Reynolds said hastily, “You’ll
get your turn, Mrs. Wilkins.”

“ I don’t know what you gentle-
men are talking about.” She re-
sumed tatting.

Colonel Hammond sat down by
the redheads. “You’re the Janu-
ary Twins — aren't you?”

“Our public!” one answered
delightedly.

“The name is 'Brown’,” said
the other,

“‘Brown’,” he agreed, “but how
about a show for the boys?”

“Dr. Reynolds wouldn’t like
it,” the first said dutifully.

“I’ll handle him. We don’t get
USO; security regulations are
too strict. How about it, Joan?"

“I’m Jane. Okay, If you fix it
with Prof.”

“Good girls!” He went back to
where Grandma Wilkins was dem-

AMAZING STORIES

onstrating selection — showers of
sixes in the chuck-a-luck cage.
She was still tatting. Ur. Withers
watched glumly. Hammond said,
“Well, Doc?“

“These things are disturbing,’’
Withers admitted, “but it’s on
the molar level — nothing affect-
ing the elementary particles.”

“How about those sketches?”

“I’m a physicist, not a psy-
chologist. But the basic particles
— electrons, neutrons, protons —
can’t be affected except with ap-
paratus designed in accordance
with the laws of radioactivity!”

Dr. Reynolds was in earshot; at
Withers’ remark he said, “Thank
you, Mrs. Wilkins. Now, ladies
and gentlemen, another experi-
ment. Norman!”

The colored boy opened his
eyes. “Yeah, Prof?”

“Up here. And the team from
your physics laboratory, please.
Has anyone a radium-dial
watch?”

Staff technicians hooked the
Geiger counter through an am-
plifier so that normal background
radioactivity was heard as oc-
casional clicks, then placed a
radium-dial watch close to the
counter tube; the clicks changed
to hail-storm volume. “Lights
out, please,” directed Reynolds.

d'he boy said, “Now, Prof?”

“Wait, Norman. Can everyone
see the watch?” I'he silence was
broken only by the rattle of the
amplifier, counting radioactivity

of the glowing figures. “Now,
Norman!”

The shining figures quenched
out; the noise died to sparse clicks.

The same group was in a block-
house miles out In the desert;
more miles beyond was the bomb
proving site; facing it was a peri-
scope window set in concrete and
glazed with solid feet of laminated
filter glass. Dr. Reynolds was talk-
ing with Major General Hanby.
A naval captain took reports via
earphones and speaker horn; he
turned to the C.O. “Planes on
station, sir.”

“Thanks, Dick.”

The horn growled, “Station
Charlie to Control; we fixed it.”

The navy man said to Hanby,
“All stations ready, range clear.”

“Pick up the count.”

“All stations, stand by to re-
sume count at minus seventeen
minutes. Time station, pick up
the count. This is a live run.
Repeat, this is a live run.”

Hanby said to Reynolds, “ Dis-
tance makes no difference?”

"We could work from Salt Lake
City once my colleagues knew the
setup.” He glanced down. “My
watch must have stopped.”

“Always feels that way. Re-
member the metronome on the
first Bikini test? it nearly drove
me nuts.”

“ I can imagine. Um, General,
some of my people are high-strung.
Suppose I ad lib?”

Hanby smiled grimly. “We al-

PROJECT NIGHTMARE

ways have a pacifier for visitors.
Doctor Withers, ready with your
curtain raiser?"

The chief physicist was bending
over a group at instruments; he
looked tired. "Not today," he
answered in a fiat voice. "Sat-
terlee will make it.”

Satterlee came forward and
grinned at tlie brass and V.I.P.s
and at Reynolds’ operators. " I've
been saving a joke for an audience
that can’t walk out. But first — ”
He picked up a polished metal
sphere and looked at the E.S.P.
adepts. "You saw a ball like this
on your tour this morning. That
one was plutonium; it’s still out
there waiting to go bang! In about
. . . eleven minutes. This is merely
steel — unless someone has made
a mistake. That would be a joke

— we’d laugh ourselves to bits!”

He got no laugh, went on: "But

it doesn’t weigh enough; we’re
safe. This dummy has been pre-
pared so that Dr. Reynolds’ peo-
ple will have an image to help
them concentrate. It looks no
more like an atom bomb than 1
look like Stalin, but it represents

— if it were plutonium — what
we atom tinkerers call a ‘sub-
critical mass’. Since the spy trials
everybody knows how an atom
bomb works. Plutonium gives off
neutrons at a constant rate. If
the mass is small, most of them
escape to the outside. But if it is
large enough, or a critical mass,
enough are absorbed by other

nuclei to start a chain reaction.
The trick is to assemble a critical
mass quickly — then run for your
life! d'his happens in microsec-
onds; I can’t be specific without
upsetting the security officer.

"Today we will find out if the
mind can change the rate of neu-
tron emission in plutonium. By
theories sound enough to have
destroyed two Japanese cities, the
emission of any particular neu-
tron is pure chance, but the total
emission is as invariable as the
stars in their courses. Otherwise
it would be impossible to make
atom bombs.

“By standard theory, theory
that works, that subcritical mass
out there is no more likely to
explode than a pumpkin. Our test
group will try to change that.
They will concentrate, try to in-
crease the probability of neutrons’
escaping, and thus set off that
sphere as an atom bomb.”

“Doctor Satterlee?" asked a
vice admiral with wings. "Do you
think it can be done?”

Absolutely not!" Satterlee
turned to the adepts. " No offense
intended, folks.”

" Five minutes! ” announced the
navy captain.

Satterlee nodded to Reynolds,
"Take over. And good luck.”

Mrs. Wilkins spoke up. "Just
a moment, young man. These
‘neuter’ things. 1 — ■”

"Neutrons, madam.”

AMAZING STORIES

"'riiat’s what I said. 1 tloii’t
quite understand. I suppose that
sort of thing comes in high scliool,
l)ut 1 only finished eighth grade.
I’m sorry."

Sattcriee looked sorry, too, but
he tried. “ — and each of tliesc
nuclei is potentially able to spit
out one of these little neutrons,
in that sphere out there" he
held up the dummy — " there are,
say, five thousand billion trillion
nuclei, each one — ’’

"My, tliat’s quite a lot, isn’t
it?”

“Madam, it certainly is.
Now — "

"Two minutes!”

Reynolds interrupted. "Mrs.
Wilkins, don’t worry. Concen-
trate on that metal bail out there
and think about those neutrons,
each one ready to come out. When
I give the word, I want you all —
you especially, Norman ■ — to
think about that ball, spitting
sparks like a watch dial. Try for
more sparks. Simply try. If you
fail, no one will blame you. Don’t
get tense."

Mrs. Wilkins nodded, “I'll
try.” She put her tatting down
and got a faraway look.

At once they were bliiulc«l by
unbelievable radiance bursting
through the massive filter. It beat
on them, then died away.

The naval captain said, "What
the hell!" Someone screamed,
” It’s gone, it’s gone!"

The speaker brayed: "Fission

at minus one minute thirty-seven
seconds. Control, what went
wrong. It looks like a hydro-
gen—”

The concussion wave hit and
all sounds were smothered. Lights
went out, emergency lighting
clicked on. The blockhouse heaved
like a boat in a heavy sea. Their
eyes were still dazzled, their ears
assaulted by cannonading after-
noise, and physicists were elbow-
ing flag officers at the port, when
an anguished soprano cut through
the din. "Oh, dear! ’’

Reynolds snapped, “What’s the
matter. Grandma? You all right?’*

"Me? Oh, yes, yes- but I’m
so sorry. I didn’t mean to do it."

" Do what?”

" I was just feeling it out, think-
ing about all those little bitty
neuters, ready to spit. But I
didn't mean to make it go off —
not till you told us to."

"Oh.” Reynolds turned to the
rest. "Anyone else jump the
gun?”

No one admitted it. Mrs. Wil-
kins said timidly, "I'm sorry.
Doctor. Have they got another
one? I’ll be more careful.”

^ Reynolds and Withers w'crc
seated in the officers’ mess with
coffee in front of them; the phys-
ici.st pairl no attention to his.
His eyes glittered and his face
twitched. “No limits! Calcula-
tions show over ninety per cent
conversion of mass to energy.

PROJECT NIGIITM.\RE

You know what that means? If
we assume — no, never mind.
Just say that we could make
every bomb the size of a pea.
No tamper. No control circuits.
Nothing but ...” He paused.
“Delivery would be fast, small
jets — just a pilot, a weaponeer,
and one of your ‘operators’. No
limit to the number of bombs. No
nation on earth could — ”

“Take it easy,” said Reynolds.
“We’ve got only a few telekinesis
operators. You wouldn’t risk them
in a plane.”

“ But — ”

“You don’t need to. Show them
the bombs, give them photos of
the targets, hook them by radio
to the weaponeer. That spreads
them thin. And we’ll test for more
sensitive people. My figures show
about one in eighteen hundred.”

“ ‘Spread them thin’,” repealed
Withers. “Mrs. Wilkins could
handle dozens of bombs, one after
another — couldn’t she? ”

“ I suppose so. We'll test.”

“We will indeed!” Withers no-
ticed his coffee, gulped It. “For-
give me, Doctor; I'm punchy.
I've had to revise too many
opinions.”

“ I know. I was a behaviorist.”

Captain Mikelef came in,
looked around and came over.
“The General wants you both,”
he said softly. “Hurry.”

They were ushered into a
guarded office. Major General
Hanby was with General LaMott

and V'ice Admiral Keithley; they
looked grim. Hanby handed them
message flimsies. Reynolds saw
the stamp TOP SECRET and
handed his back. “General, I'm
not cleared for this.”

“Shut up and read it.”

Reynolds skipped the number
groups: “ — (PARAPHRASED)
RUSSIAN EMBASSY TODAY
HANDED STATE ULTIMA-
TUM: DEMANDS USA CON-
VERT TO 'PEOPLE’S REPUB-
LIC’ UNDER POLITICAL
COMMISSARS TO BE AS-
SIGNED BY USSR. MILI-
TARY ASSURANCES DE-
MANDED. NOTE CLAIMS
MAJOR US CITIES (LIST SEP-
ARATE) ARE MINED WITH
ATOMIC BOMBS WHICH
THEY THREATEN TO SET
OFF BY RADIO IF TERMS
ARE NOT MET BY SIXTEEN
HUNDRED FRIDAY EST.”

Revnolds reread it — “SIX-
TEEN HUNDRED FRIDAY”
— two o’clock tomorrow after-
noon, local time. Our cities booby-
trapped with A-bombs? Could
they do that? He realized that
LaMott was speaking. “We must
assume that the threat is real.
Our free organization makes it
an obvious line of attack.”

The admiral said, “They may
be bluffing.”

The air general shook his head.
“They know the President won't
surrender. We can’t assume that
Ivan is stupid.”

AMAZING STORIES

Reynolds wondered why he was
being allowed to hear this. La-
Mott looked at him. “Admiral
Keilhley and I leave for Wash-
ington at once. I have delayetl to
ask you this: your people set off
an atom bomb. Can they keep
bombs from going off?”

Reynolds felt his time sense
stretch as if he had all year to
think about Grandma Wilkins,
Norman, his othec paranormals.
“Yes,” he answered.

LaMoit stood up. “Your job,
Hanby. Coming, Admiral?”

“Wait!” protested Reynolds.
“Give me one bomb and Mrs.
Wilkins — and I’ll sit on It. But
how many cities? Twenty?
Thirty?”

“Tliirty-eight.”

“Thirty-eight bombs — or
more. Where are they? What do
they look like? How long will this
go on? It’s impossible.”

“Of course- — but do it any-
how. Or try. Ilanby, tell them
we’re on our way, will you?”

“('ertainly. General.”

“Good-by, Doctor. Or so long,
rather.”

Reynolds suddenly realized that
tlteso two were going back to
“sit” on one of the bombs, to
continue their duties until it
killed them. He said quickly,
“We'll try. Wc’ll certainly try.”

Thirty-eight cities . . . forty-
three hours . . . and seventeen
adepts. Others vvere listed in

years of research, but they wera
scattered through forty-one states.
In u dictatorship secret police
would locate them at once, deliver
them at supersonic speeds. But
this was America.

Find them! Get them here!
Fast! Hanby assigned Colonel
Hammond to turn Reynolds’
wishes into orders and directed
his security officer to delegate his
duties, get on the plfone and use
his acquaintance with the I'.B.l.,
with other security officers, and
through them witli local police,
to cut red tape and find those
paranormals. I'iiid them, convince
them, bring pressure, start them
winging toward the proving
ground. By sundown, twenty-
three had been found, eleven liad
been convinced or coerced, two
had arrived. Hanby phoned Reyn-
olds, caught him eating a sand-
wich standing up. “Hanby speak-
ing. The President just phoned.”

“The President?”

“LaMott got in to see him.
He's dubious, but he’s authorized
an all-out try, short of slowing
down conventional defense. One
of his assistants left National
Airport by jet plane half an hour
ago to come here and liclp. Things
will move faster.”

Rut it did not speed things up,
as the Russian broadcast was
even then being beamed, making
the crisis public; the President
went on the air thirty minutes
later. Reynolds did not hear him;

FROJIiCT NIGHTMARE

he was busy. Twenty people to
save twenty cities — and a world.
But how? He was sure that Mrs.
Wilkins could smother any A-
bomb she had seen; he hoped the
others could. But a hidden bomb
in a far-oflf city — find it mentally,
think about it, quench it, not for
the microsecond it took to set one
off, but for the billions of micro-
seconds it might take to uncover
it — was it possible?

What would help? Certain
drugs — caffeine, benzedrine.
They must have quiet, too. He
turned to Hammond. “I want a
room and bath for each one.”

■‘You’ve got that.”

"No. we’re doubled up, with
semi-private baths.”

Hammond shrugged. “Can do.
It means bcxjting out some brass.”

“Keep the kitchen manned.
They must not sleep, but they’ll
have to eat. Fresh coffee all the
time and cokes and tea — any-
thing they want. Can you put the
room phones through a private
switchboard?”

“Okay. What el.se?”

”1 don’t know. We’ll talk to
them.”

They all knew of the Russian
broadcast, but not what was being
planned; they met his words with
uneasy silence. Reynolds turned
to Andrews. “Well, Two-Gun?”

“Big bite to chew, Prof.”

“Yes. Can you chew it?”

“Have to, I reckon.”

“Xorman?”

"Gee, Boss! How can 1 when I
can’t see ’em?”

” Mrs. Wilkins couldn't see that
bomb this morning. You can’t
see radioactivity on a watch dial;
it’s too small. You just see the
dial and think about it. Well?”

'Phe Negro lad scowled. ” Phink
of a shiny ball in a city some-
where?”

‘‘Yes. No, wait — Colonel
Hammond, they need a visual
image and it won’t be that. There
are atom bombs here ' — they must
see. one.”

Hammond frowned. “An Amer-
ican bomb meant for droj^ping or
firing won’t look like a Russian
bomb rigged for placement and
radio triggering.”

‘‘What will they look like?”

‘‘G-2 ought to know. 1 hoi^e.
We’ll get some sort of picture.
A three-dimensional mock-up,
too. I'd better find Withers and
the General.” He left.

Mrs. Wilkins said briskly,
“Doctor, ril watch Washington,
D. C.”

“Yes. Mrs. Wilkins. You’re
the only one who has been testetl,
even in reverse. So you guard
Washington; It’s of prime im-
portance.”

“No, no, that’s not why. It’s
the city I can see best.”

Andrews said, “She’s got some-
thing, Prof. I pick Seattle.”

By midnight Reynolds had his
charges,” twenty-six by now,

AM.\ZING STOklliS

tucked away in the officers’ club.
Hammond and he took turns at
a switchboard rigged in the upper
hall. The watch would not start
until shortly before deadline. Fa-
tigue reduced paranormal powers,
sometimes to zero; Reynolds
hoped that they were getting one
last night of sleep.

A microphone had been in-
stalled in each room ; a selector
switch let them listen In. Reyn-
olds disliked this but Hammond
argued, “Sure, it’s an invasion of
privacy. So is being blown up by
an A-bomb.” He dialed the switch.
“Hear that? Our boy Norman is
sawing wood.” He moved it again.
“Private ‘Two-Gun’ is still stir-
ring. We can’t let them sleep,
once it starts, so we have to spy
on them.”

“ I suppose so.”

Withers came upstairs. “Any-
thing more you need?”

“I guess not,” answered Reyn-
olds. “How about the bomb
mock-up? ”

“Before morning,”

“How authentic is it?”

“Hard to say. Their agents
pro])abIy rigged firing circuits
from radio parts bought right
here; the circuits could vary a lot.
But the business part — well,
we're using real plutonium.”

“Good. We’ll show It to them
after breakfast.”

'I'wo-Gxin’s door opened.
“Howdy, Colonel. Prof it’s
there.”

PROJECT NIGHTMARE

“What is?”

“The bomb. Under Seattle. I
can feel it.”

“ Where is it? “

“It’s down — it feels down.
And it feels wet, somehow. Would
they put it in the Sound?”

Hammond jumped up. “In the
harbor — and shower the city
with radioactive water!” He was?
ringing as he spoke. ' ‘ Get me Gen-
eral Hanby!”

“Morrison here,” a voice an-
swered. “What is it, Hammond?”

“The Seattle bomb — have
them dredge for it. It’s in the
Sound, or somewhere under wa-
ter.”

“Eh? How do you know?”

“One of Reynolds’ magicians.
Do it!” He cut off.

Andrews said worriedly, “Prof,
I can’t see it • I'm not a ‘seeing-
eye.’ Why don’t you get one?
Say that little Mrs. Brentano?”

“Oh, my God! Clairvoyants —
we need them, too.”

Withers said, “Eh, Doctor? Do
you think — ”

“No, 1 don’t, or I would have
thought of it. How do they search
for bombs? What instruments?”

“Instruments? A bomb in its
shielding doesn’t even affect . a
Geiger counter. You have to open
things and look.”

“How long will that take? Say
for New York!”

Hammond said, “Shut up!
Reynolds, where are these clair-
voyants?”

Reynolds chewed his lip.
“Thej‘’re scarce.”

“Scarcer than us dice rollers,”
added Two-Gun. “But get that
Brentano kid. She found keys 1
had lost digging a ditch. Buried
three feet deep — and me search-
ing my quarters.”

“Yes, yes, Mrs. Brentano.”
Reynolds pulled out a notebook.

Hammond reached for the
switchboard. “Morrison? Stand
by for more names • and even
more urgent than the others.”

More urgent but harder to
find; the Panic was on. The Presi-
dent urged everyone to keep cool
and stay home, whereupon thirty
million people stampeded. The
ticker in the P.I.O. office typed
the story: “NEW YORK NY —
TO CLEAR JAM CAUSED BY
WRECKS IN OUTBOUND
TUBE THE INBOUND TUBE
OF HOLLAND TUNNEL HAS
BEEN REVERSED. POLICE
HAVE STOPPED TRYING TO
PREVENT EVACUATION.
BULLDOZERS WORKING TO
REOPEN TRTBOROUGH
BRIDGE, BLADES SHOVING
WRECKED CARS AND HU-
MAN HAMBURGER. WEE-
HAWKEN FERRY DISASTER
CONFIRMED: NO PASSEN-
GER LIST YET— FLASH —
GEORGE WASHINGTON
BRIDGE GAVE WAY AT 0353
EST, WHETHER FROM
OVERLOAD OR SABOTAGE

AMAZING STORIES

NOT KNOWN. MORE MORE
MORE— FLASH — ”

It was reiicated everywhere.
I'he Deiiver-Colorado Springs
highway had one hundred thirty-
five deaths by midnight, then
reports stopped. A DC-6 at Bur-
bank ploughed into a mob which
hatl broken through tlu‘ harrier.
I'he Baltimore- Washington high-
way was dogged • both ways;
Memorial Bridge was out of serv-
ice. rhe five outlets from Los An-
gelos were solid with crecj')ing
cars. At four a.m. EST the Presi-
<lent declared martial law; the
order had no immediate effect.

By morning Reynolds had
thirty-one adepts assignetl to
twenty-four cities. He had a
stoitiach-churning ordeal l>efore
decitling to let them work f>nly
cities known to them, d'he gam-
bler, Even-Money Karsch, had
settled It: “Doc, I know when
I’m hot. Minneapolis hus to be
mine.” Reynokis gave in, even
though one of his sttidcnts had
just arrived from there; he i)ut
them both on it and prayed that
at least one would l>e “hot”.
I'wo clairvoyants arrived; one,
a blind newsdealer from Chicago,
was put to searching there; the
other, a cariiie mcntalist, was
given the list and told to find
bombs wlicrever she could. Mrs.
Brentano had remarried and
moved ; Norfolk was being combed
for Iter.

At one fifteen p.m., forty-five

minutes before deadline, they
were In tlieir rooms, each with
maps and aerial views of his city,
each with photo.s of tlie mocked-
up bomb. The club was clear of
residents; the few normals needed
to coddle the paranormals kept
careful quiet. Roads nearby were
blocked; air traffic was warned
away. Everything was turned to-
ward providing an atmosphere in
which forty-two people could sit
still and fhink.

At the switchboard were Ham-
mond. Reynokis, and Gordon
McClintock, the President’s as-
sistant. Reynokis glanced up.
“What time is it?”

“One thirty-seven,’* rasped
Hammond. “Twenty-three min-
utes.”

“One thirty-eight,” disagreed
McClintock. “Reynolds, how
about Detroit? You can’t leave it
unguarded.”

“Whom can I use? Each is
guarding the city he knows best.”

“Those twin girls — I heard
them mention Detroit.”

“They’ve played everywhere.
But Pittsburgh is their home.”

“Switch one of them to De-
troit.”

Reynolds thought of telling
him to go to Detroit himself.
“They work together. You want
to get them upset and lose both
cities?”

Instead of answering McClin-
tock said, "And who's watching
Cleveland?”

I’KtiJKCT NIGHTMAKK

“Norman Johnson. He lives
there and he’s our second strong-
est operator.”

They were interrupted by voices
downstairs. A man came up, car-
rying a bag, and spotted Reyn-
olds. "Oh, hello. Doctor. What is
this? I’m on top priority work —
tank production — when the
P.B.I. grabs me. You are responsi-
ble?”

"Yes. Come with me.” McClin-
tock started to speak, but Reyn-
olds led the man away. “Mr.
Nelson, did you bring your fam-
ily?”

“No, they’re still in Detroit.
Had 1 known — ”

"Please! Listen carefully.” He
explained, pointed out a map of
Detroit in the room to which they
went, showed him pictures of tlie
simulated bomb. "You under-
stand?”

Nelson’s jaw muscles were
jumping. "It seems impossible.”

"It is possible. You’ve got to
think about that bomb — or
bombs. Get in touch, squeeze
them, keep them from going off.
You’ll have to stay awake.”

Nelson breathed gustily. "I'll
stay awake.”

"That phone will get you any-
thing you want. Good luck.”

He i>asscd the room occupied
by the blind clairvoyant; the
door was open. "Harry, it’s Prof.
Getting anything?”

The man turned to the voice.

“ It’s in the Loop. I could walk to
it if I were there. A six-story
building.”

"That's the best you can do?”

"Tell them to try the attic. I
get warm when I go up.”

"Right away!” He rushed back,
saw that Hanby had arrived.
Swiftly he keyed the communica-
tions office. "Reynolds speaking.
The Chicago, bomb Is in a six-
story building in the Loop area,
probably in the attic. No — that’s
all. G’by!”

Hanby started to speak; Reyn-
olds shook his head and looked at
his watch. Silently the General
picked up the phone. "This is the
commanding officer. Have any
flash sent here.” He put the phone
down and stared at his watch.

For fifteen endless minutes they
Stood silent. The general broke
it by taking the phone and say-
ing, "Hanby. Anything?”

“No, General. Washington is
on the wire.”

“Eh? You say Washington?”

“Yes, sir. Here’s the General,
Mr. Secretary.”

Hanby sighed. “Hanby speak-
ing, Mr. Secretary. You’re all
right? Washington ... is all
right?”

They could hear the relayed
voice. "Certainly, certainly.
We're past the deadline. But I
wanted to tell you: Radio Moscow
is telling the world that our cities
are in flames.”

AMAZING STORIF.S

Hanby hesitated. “None of
them are?’’

“Certainly not. I’ve a talker
hooked in to GHQ, which has an
open line to every city listed. All
safe. I don’t know whether your
freak people did any good but,
one way or another, it was a
false — “ The line went dead.

Ilanby’s face went dead with it.
jiggled the phone. “I've been
cut off!”

“ Not here, General — at the
other end. Just a moment.”

'I'hey waited. Presently the op-
erator said, “Sorry, sir. I can’t
get them to answer ”

“Keep trying!”

It was slightly over a minute —
it merely seemed longer — when
the operator said, “Here’s your
party, sir.’’

“That you, Hanby?” came the
voice. “I suppose we’ll have
l)hc)ne troubles just as wc had last
time. Now, about these ESP peo-
ple: while we are grateful and all
that, nevertheless I suggest that
nothing be released to the papers.
Might be misinterpreted.”

“Oh. Is that an orfler, Mr.
Secretary?”

"Oh, no, no! But have such
things routed through my office.”

“Yes, sir.” He cradled the
phone.

McClintock said, “You should-
n’t have rung off, General. I’d
like to know whether the Chief
wants this business continued.”

"Suppose we talk about it on

the way back to my office.” The
General urged him away, turned
and gave Reynolds a solemn wink.

Trays were placed outside the
doors at six o’clock; most of them
sent for coffee during the evening.
Mrs. Wilkins ordered tea; she
kept her door open and chatted
with anyone who passed. Harry
the newsboy was searching Mil-
waukee; no answer had been ‘re-
ceived from his tip about Chicago.
Mrs. Ekstein, or “Princess Ca-
thay” as she was billed, had re-
ported a “feeling” about a house
trailer in Denver and was now
poring over a map of New Or-
leans. Witli the passing of the
deadline panic abated; communi-
cations were improving. The
American people were telling each
other that they had known that
those damned commies were bluff-
ing.

Hammond and Reynolds sent
for more coffee at three a.m.;
Reynolds’ hand trembled as he
poured. Hammond said, “You
haven’t sle[)t for two nights. Get
over on that divan.”

“Neither have you.”

“I’ll sleep when you wake up.”

“I cant sleep. I’m worrying
about what’ll happen when they
get sleepy.” He gestured at the
line of doors,

"So am I.”

At seven a.m. Two-Gun came
out. “ Prof, they got it. The bomb.
It’s gone. Like closing your hand
on nothing.”

PROJECT NIGHTMARE

Hammond grabbed the phone.
“Get me Seattle — the F.B.I.
office.”

While they waited, Two-Gun
said, “What now, Prof?"

Reynolds tried to think. “ May-
be you should rest.”

“Not until this is over. Who’s
got Toledo? 1 know that burg.”

“Uh . . . young Barnes.”

Hammond was connected; he
identified himself, asked the ques-
tion. He put the phone down
gently. “They did get it,” he
whispered. “It was in the lake.”

“I told you it was wet,”
agreed Two-Gun. “Now, about
Toledo — ”

“Well . . . tell me when you’ve
got it and we’ll let Barnes rest.”

McClintock rushed in at seven
thirty-five, followed by Hanby.
“Doctor Reynolds! Colonel Ham-
mond!”

" Sh! Quiet! You’ll disturb
them.”

McClintock said in a lower
voice. “Yes, surely — I was ex-
cited. This is important. They
located a bomb in Seattle and —

“Yes. Private Andrews told
us.”

“Huh? How did ke know?”

“Never mind,” Hanby inter-
vened. "The point is, they found
the bomb already triggered. Now
we know that your people are
protecting the cities.”

“Was there any doubt?”

“Well . . . yes."

“But there isn’t now," McClin-

tock added. "I must take over."
He bent over the board. “Com-
munications? Put that White
House line through here.”

“Just what,” Reynolds said
slowly, “do you mean by 'take
over’?”

“Eh? Why, take charge on be-
half of the President. Make sure
these people don’t let down an
instant!”

“But what do you propose to
do?"

Hanby said hastily, “Nothing,
Doctor. We'll just keep in touch
with Washington from here.”

They continued the vigil to-
gether; Reynolds spent the time
hating McClintock’s guts. He
started to take coffee, then de-
cided on another benzedrine tablet
instead. He hoped his people were
taking enough of it — and not
too much. They all had it, except
Grandma Wilkins, who wouldn’t
touch it. He wanted to check with
them but knew that he could not
— each bomb was bound only by
a thread of thought; a split-split
second of diversion might be
enough.

The outside light flashed; Han-
by took the call. "Congress has
recessed,” he announced, “and
the President is handing the So-
viet Union a counter ultimatum ;
locate and disarm any bombs or
be bombed in return.” The light
flashed again; Hanby answered.
His face lit up. “Two more

AM.VZING STORIES

I'ouad,” he told them. “One in
Chicago, right where your man
said; the other in Camden.”

“Camden? How?”

“They rounded up the known
Communists, of course. This lad-
die was brought back there for
questioning, He didn’t like that;
he knew that he was being held
less than a mile from the bomb.
Who is on Camden?”

“ Mr. Uimwiddy.”

“The elderly man with the
bunions? ”

“That’s right — retired post-
man. General, do we assume that
there is only one bomb per city? ”

McCIintock answered, “Of
course not! These people must — ”

Hanby cut in, “Central Intelli-
gence is assuming so, except for
New York and Washington. If
they had more bombs here, they
would have added more cities."

Reynolds left to take Diin-
widdy off watch. McCIintock, he
fumed, did not realize that people
were flesh and blood.

Diniwiddy was unsurprised. “A
while ago the pressure let up, then
well, I’m afraid I dozed. I had
a terrible feeling that I had let it
go off, then I knew it hadn't."
Reynolds told him to rest, then
be ready to help out elsewhere.
They settled on Philadelphia;
Dimwiddy had once lived there.

The watch continued. Mrs.
Ekstein came up with three hits,
but no answers came back; Reyn-
olds still had to keep those cities

covered. She then complained
that her “sight” had gone; Reyn-
olds went to her room and told
her to nap, not wishing to consult
McCIintock.

Luncheon trays came and went.
Reynolds continued worrying over
how to arrange his operators to
let them rest. Forty-three people
and thirty-five cities — If only he
had two for every city! Maybe
any of them could watch any
city? No, he could not chance it.

Barnes woke up and took back
Toledo; that left Two-Gun free.
Should he let him take Cleveland?
Norman had had no relief and
Two-Gun had once been through
it, on a train. The colored boy
was amazing but rather hyster-
ical, whereas Two-Gun — well,
Reynolds felt that Two-Gun
would last, even through a week
of no sleep.

No! He couldn’t trust Cleve-
land to a man who had merely
passed through it. But with Uim-
widdy on Philadelphia, when
Mary Gifford woke he could put
her on Houston and that would
let Hank sleep before shifting
him to Indianapolis and that
would let him — ’

A chess game, with all pawns
queens and no mistakes allowed.

IVIi'Clintock was twiddling the
selector switch, listening in. Sud-
denly he snapped, “Someone is
asleep!"

Reynolds checked ^he number.

PROJECT NIOHTM.\RE

“Of course, lliat's the twins’
room; they lake turns. \’ou may
hear snores in 21 and 30 and 8
and 19. It’s okay; they're off
watch.”

“Well, all right.” McCHiUock
seemed annoywl.

Reynolds l)eiit back to his
list. Shortly McCliiitock snorted,
“Who's in room 12?”

“Uh? Wait — that’s Norman
Johnson, Cleveland.”

“ You mean he's on watch?"

“Yes.” Reynolds could hear
the boy’s asthmatic breathing,
felt relieved.

” He's asleep!”

“No. he's not.”

But McClintock was rushing
down the corridor. Reynolds took
after him; Hammond and Hanby
followed. Reynolds caught up as
McClintock burst into room 12.
Norman was sjjrawled in a chair,
eyes closed in his habitual at*
titude. McC'lintock rushed up,
slapped him. “Wake up!”

Reynolds grabbed McClintock.
“You bloody fool!”

Norman opened his eyes, then
burst into tears. “It’s gone!"

“Steady, Norman. It’s all
right.”

‘.‘No, no! It’s gone — and my
mammy’s gone with it!”

McC'lintock snapped, “Concen-
trate, boy! Get back on it!”

Reynolds turned on him. “Gel
out. (jet out before I punch you.”

Hanby and Hammond were in
the door; the General cut in with

a hoarse whisper. “Pipe down
Doctor, bring the boy.”

Back at the board the outside
light was flashing. Hanby took
the call while Reynolds tried to
quiet the boy. Hanby listened
gravely, then said, “He’s rigln.
Cleveland just got it.”

McClintock snapped, “He went
to sleep. He ought to be shot.”

“Shut up,” said Hanby.

“ But — ”

Reynolds said, “Any others.
General? ”

“Why would there he?”

“All this racket. It may have
disturbed a dozen of them.”

“Oh, we’ll see.” He called
Washington again. Presently he
sighed. “No, just Clevelan<l. We
were . . . lucky.”

“General,” McClintock in-
sisted, “he was asleep.”

Hanby looked at him. “Sir, you
may be the President’s deputy,
but you yourself have no military
authority. Off my post.”

“But I am directed by the
President to ”

“Off my i)osl, sir! Go back to
Washington. Or to Cleveland."

McClintock looked dumb-
founded. Hanby added, “You’re
worse than ba<l — you’re a fool.”

“The President will hear of
this.”

“Blunder again and the Presi-
dent won't live that long. Get out.”

By nightfall the situation was
rapidly getting worse. Twenty-
seven cities were still threatened

AMAZING STORIICS

and Reynolds was losing operators
faster than bombs were being
found. Even - Money Karscli
would nor relieve when awak-
ened. “See lliat?" he said, rolling
dice. “ Cold as a well-digger’s feet.
I’m through.” After that Reyn-
olds tested eaclt one who was
about to relieve, found that some
were tired beyond tlie power of
short sleep to restore them —
they were “cold”.

By midnight there were eight-
een operators for nineteen cities.
The twins he h^id fearfully split
up; it had worked. Mrs. Wilkins
was holding both Washington and
Baltimore; she had taken Balti-
more when he had no one to re-
lieve there.

But now he had no one for re-
lief anywhere and three operators
— Nelson, Tavo-Guii and Grand-
ma Wilkins — had had no rest.
He was too fagged to worry; he
simply knew that whenever one
of them reached his limit, the
United States would lose a city.
The panic had resumed after the
bombing of Cleveland ; roads again
were choked, d'he disorder made
harder the search for bombs. But
there was nothing he could do.

Mrs. Ekstein still complained
about her sight but kept at it.
Harry the newsboy had had no
luck with Milwaukee, but there
was no use shifting him ; other cit-
ies were “dark” to him. During
the night Mrs. Ekstein pointed to
the bomb in Houston. It was, she

said, in a box underground. A
coffin? Yes, there was a headstone;
she was unable to read the name.

Thus, many recent dead in
Houston were disturbed. But it
was nine Sunday morning before
Reynolds went to tell Mary Gif-
ford that she could rest — or re-
lieve for Wilmington, if she felt
up to it. He found her collapsed
and lifted her onto the bed, won-
dering if she had known the
Houston bomb was found.

Eleven cities now and eight
people. Grandma Wilkins held
four cities. No one else had been
able to double up. Reynolds
thought dully that it was a mira-
cle that they had been able to
last at all : it surpassed enormously
the best test performance.

Hammond looked up as he re-
turned. “Make any changes?”

“No. The Gifford kid is
through. We’ll lose hiilf a dozen
cities before this is over.”

“Some of them must be damn
near empty by now.”

“I hope so. Any more bombs
found?”

“Not yet. How do you feel,
Doc? ”

“Three weeks dead.” Reynolds
sat down wearily. He was wonder-
ing if he should wake some of
those sleeping and lest them again
when he heard a noise below; he
went to the stairwell.

Up came an M.P. captain.
“They said to bring her here.”

{Continued on page 161)

PROJECT NIGHTMARE

IF THERE was oiie thing Dr. Kal-
mar hated, and there were
many, it was having a new assist-
ant fresh from a medical school on
Earth. They always wanted to
change things. They never realized
that a planet develops its own
techniques to meet its own re-
quirements, which are seldom sim-
ilar to those of any other world.
Dr. Kalmar never got along with
his assistants and he didn’t expect
to get along with this young Dr.
Hoyt who was coming la on the
transfer ship from Vega.

Dr. Kalmar had been trained on
Earth himself, of course, but he
wistfully remembered how he had
revered Dr. Lowell when he had
been Lowell’s assistant. He’d known
that his own green learning was
no match for Dr. Lowell’s wisdom
and experience after 30 years on
Deneb, and he had avidly ac-
cepted his lessons.

Why, he grumbled to himself on
his way to the spaceport to meet
the unknown whippersnapper, why
didn’t Larth turn out young doc-
tors the way it used to? They
ought to have the arrogance
knocked out of them before they
left medical school. That’s what
must have happened to him, be-
cause his attitude had certainly
been humble when he landed.

The spaceport was jammed,
naturally. Ship arrivals were in-
frequent enough to bring every-
body from all over the planet who

“ Wanla kno'itj what’s wrong with
women these days? Spoiled! The
whole kit and kaboodle of ’em. They
want to sing in nightclubs and hook
up with sorne millionaire and wear
beautiful clothes. Housework is
something for gadgets to take care
of, with maids to run the gadgets.
Afraid to get a few calluses on their
dainty hands!

*’ We got a way to handle that on
Deneb. A girl gets highfalutin up
there, the Doc puts her in the Ego
Alter room. Thicken up her ankles
a little, take some of the sparkle
out of her eyes and hair, and you get
a woman fit to pull a plow! ”

Hold it, Madam! H. L. Gold said
that; not us. Personally, we like
girls — not Percherons!

Charge

For

Alterations

Illustrator: II. Sbarp

By H. L. GOLD

was not on duty at the farms,
mines, factories, freight and pas-
senger jets and all the rest of the
busy activities of this compara-
tively new colony. They brought
their lunches and families and
stood around to watch. Dr. Kal-
mar went to the platform.

The ship sat down on a mush-
room of fire that swiftly became a
flaming pancake and then was
squashed out of existence.

“ I’m waiting for a shipment of
livestock,’* enthused the man
standing next to Dr. Kalmar.

“You're lucky/’ the doctor said.
“They can’t talk back.”

The man looked at him sympa-
thetically. “Meeting a female?”

“Gabbier and more annoying,”
said Dr. Kalmar, but he didn’t
elaborate and the man, with the
courtesy of the frontier, did not
pry for an explanation.

Livestock and freight came
down on one elevator and passen-
gers came down another. Slide-
walks carried the cargo to Sterili-
zation and travelers to the greet-
ing platform. Dr. Kalmar felt his
shoulders droop. The man with
the medical bag had to be Dr.
Ho) t and he was even more brisk,
erect and muscular than Dr. Kal-
mar had expected, with a superior
and inquisitive look that made
the last assistant, unbearable as
he’d been, seem as tractable as
one of the arriving cows.

Dr. Hoyt spotted him instantly
and came striding over to grab

his haitd in a grip like an orc-
criisher. "You’re Dr. Kalmar.
Glad to know you. I'm sure we'll
get along fine together. Miserable
trip. Had to change ships four
times to get here. Hope the food’s
better than shipboard slop. Got a
nice hospital to work in? Do I live
in or out?”

Dr. Kalmar was grudgingly
forced to say rapidly, “ Right.
I.ikewise. I hope so. Too bad.
Suits us. I think so. In.”

He got Dr. Hoyt into a jetcab
and told the driv^er to make time
back to the hospital. Aj'jpoinl-
ments were piling up while he ha<l
to make the courtesy trip out to
the spaceport, which was another
nuisance. Now he'd have all of
those and a talkative assistant
who'd want lo know the reasons
for everything.

” Pretty barren,” said Dr. Hoyt,
looking out the window at the vege-
tationless ground 'below. “Why’s
that?”

He’d known lie was going lo
Deneb, Dr. Kalmar thought an-
grily. The least he coukl have
done was read up on the place. lie
had.

“It’s an Earth-type planet,”
Dr. Kalmar said in a blunt voice,
“except that life never developed
on it. We had to bring everything
— benign germ cultures, seed,
animals, fish, insects — -a whole
ecology. Our farms arc close to the
cities. Too wasteful of freight to
move them out very far. Another

AMAZING STOKIICS

few' ceaturics and we’ll liave a real
population, millions of people in-
stead of the 20,000 we have now
in a couple of dozen settlements
around this w'orld. Then we'll
have the whole place a nice shade
of green.”

‘‘(.'ity boy myself,” said Dr.
Hoyt. ” Hate the country. Hydro-
[KJiiics and synthetic meat —
that’s the answ'er.”

“For Earth. It’ll be a long time
before we get that crowded here
on Deiieb.”

“Deneb,” the young doctor re-
peated, dissatisfied. ‘‘That’s the
name of the star. You mean to
tell me the planet has the same
name?”

“Most solar systems have only
one Earth-type planet. It saves a
lot of trouble to just call that
planet Deneb, Vega or whatever.”

‘‘Is that clutch of shacks the
city?” exclaimed Dr. Hoyt.

‘‘Denebia,” said Dr. Kalmar,
beginning to enjoy himself finally.

‘‘Why, you could lose it in a
suburb or Bosyorkdelphia! ”

“That monstrosity that used to
be New York, Pennsylvania, Con-
necticut, Rhode Island and Mas-
sachusetts? I wouldn’t want to.”

He was pleased when Dr. Hoyt
sank into stunned silence. If luck
was with him, that stupefaction
might last the whole day. It
seemed as though it might, for the
bight of the modest little hospital
was too much for the youngster
who had just come from the mam-

moth health factories of Earth.

Dr. Hoyt revived somewhat
when he saw the patients waiting
in the scantily furnislied outer
room, but Dr. Kalmar said, ‘‘Bet-
ter get yourself settled,” and opened
a door for his immature colleague.

“But there’s only one bed in
this room,” Dr. Hoyt objected.
“You must have iiuide a mistake.”

Dr. Kalmar, recalling the crowded
cubicles of Earth, gave out a proud
little dry laugh. “ You're on Deneb
now, boy. Here you’ll have to get
used to spaciousness. VVe like el-
bow room.”

The young doctor went in hesi-
tantly, leaving the door open for
a fast escape In case an error had
been made. Dr. Kalmar had done
the same when he'd arrived nine
years ago. Judging by his own ex-
perience, it would take Dr. Hoyt a
full six months to get used to hav-
ing a room all to himself. There
would be plenty of time to start
showing him the ropes tomorrow,
and in the meantime there were
the backed-up appointments to be
taken care of.

Dr. Kalmar went to his office
and had his nurse, Miss Dupont,
send in the first patient.

It was a girl of 17, Avis Emery,
who had been brought by her par-
ents. She sat sullenly, dark-haired,
too daintily pretty and delicately
shapely for a frontier world like
this, while Mr. Emery put the
file from Social Control on the
doctor’s desk.

NO CH.\ROE FOR ALTERATIONS

“We're farmers — the man
began.

Dr. Kalmar interrupted, “The
information is in the summary.
Avis is to be assigned her mate
next year, but she wants to go to
Earth and become a nightclub
singer. She refuses to marry a boy
who’d be able to help around the
farm, and she won’t work on it
herself.”

He looked up severely at the
parents. “This is your own fault,
you know. You pampered her.
Farm labor is too valuable for
pampering. We can’t afford it.”

“You can blame me, Doc,”
said Mr. Emery miserably. “She’s
such a pretty little thing — I
couldn’t work her the way Sue
and I work ourselves.”

“And then she started getting
notions,” Mrs. Emery added, giv-
ing her husband a vicious glare.
Dr. Kalmar could imagine the
nights of argument and accusation
before they were at last forced to
go for medical help to solve their
self-created problem. “Singing in
nightclubs back on Earth, marry-
ing a billionaire, living in a sky
yacht!”

“Avis,” said Dr. Kalmar gently.
“You know it’s not that easy,
don’t you? There are lots and lots
of pretty girls on Earth and very
few billionaires. If you did get a
job singing in a nightclub, you
know you’d have to do some un-
pleasant things because there’s so
much competition for customers.

Things like stripteasing, drinking
at the tables and going out with
whoever the owner tells you to.”

The girl’s face grew animated
for the first time. “Well, sure!
Why do you think I want to go? ”

“And you don’t love Deneb and
your farm? ”

“I hate both of them!”

“But you realize that we must
have food. Doesn’t it make you
feel important to grow more food
so we can increase our popula-
tion?”

“No! Why should 1 care? I
want to go to Earth!”

Dr. Kalmar shook his head re-
gretfully. He pushed a button on
his desk. It was connected to a
gravity generator directly under
the girl’s chair. Four gravities sud-
denly pushed her down into it and
a hypodermic needle jabbed her
swiftly with a hypnotic drug. She
8]ump)ed. He released the button
and the artificial gravity abated,
but she remained dazed and re-
laxed.

“You’re not going to hurt her,
are you, Doc?” Mr, Emery begged.

“Certainly not. But I suppose
you know Social Control’s orders.”

'^ey nodded, the husband gloom-
ily, the wife with a single sharp
jerk of her head.

“You go right ahead and do it,”
she said. “ I’m sick of working my
fingers to the bone while she
primps and preens and talks all
the time about going to Earth.”

AMAZING STORIES

“Come, Avis,” Dr. Kalmar
said in a low, commanding voice.

She stood up, blank-faced, and
followed him out to the Ego Alter
room. He closed the door, sat her
down in the insulated seat next
to the control console, put the
wired plastic helmet on her and
adjusted it to fit her skull snugly.

Running his finger down the
treatment sheet of her Social Con-
trol file, he set the dials according
to its instructions. The psychic
areas to be reduced were sex
drive, competitiveness and imagi-
nation, while the areas of repro-
ductive urge and cooperation were
to be intensified. He regulated the
individual timers and sent the
varying charge through her brain.

There was no reaction, no con-
vulsion, no distortion of features.
She sat there as if nothing had
happened, but her personality had
changed as completely as though
she had been retrained from birth.

Miss Dupont came in without
knocking. She knew, of course,
that any patient in the Ego Alter
room would be incapable of being
disturbed.

“Rephysical, Dr. Kalmar?’’ she
asked.

“I’m afraid so. Will you pre-
pare her, please? ”

The nurse removed the girl’s
clothes. There was no resistance.

“.Such a lovely body,’’ she said.
“ It’s a shame.’’

He shrugged. “Until we have
enough people and farms and in-

dustries, Miss Dupont, we’ll just
have to get used to altering people
to fit the needs of our society. I’m
sure you understand that."

“Yes, but it still seems a shame.
Bodies like that don’t grow on
trees.”

He gently moved the girl into
the Rephysical Chamber. “They
grow in this machine, though. As
soon as we can alTord it, which
ought to be only a few hundred
years from now, we can make any
woman look like this, or even
better.”

“And don’t forget the men,”
Miss Dupont said as he started
the mitogenetic generator. “We
could use some Adonises around
here.”

“We’ll have them,” he assured
her.

“Somebody will. None of us’ll
live that long.”

Working like a sculptor with a
cathode in one hand and an anode
in the other, Dr. Kalmar began
reshaping the^girl who stood fix-
edly ill the boxlike chamber. The
flesh fled from the cathode and
chased after the anode as he
broadened the fine nose, thick-
ened the mobile lips, squared the
slender jaw and drew out care-
fully the delicately arched orbital
ridges.

“ I’ll leave the curl in her hair,”
he said. “ Rveu-y woman needs at
least one feature she can be proud
of.”

NO CHARGE FOK ALTERATIONS

“You’re telling me,” Miss Du-
pont replied.

“Synthetic tissue, please.”

She drew out a tube with a
variable nozzle and started work-
ing just ahead of him. A spray of
high-velocity cells shot through
the girl’s smooth skin at the neck,
shoulders, breasts, hips and legs,
forming shapeless lumps that he
guided into cords and muscles.
The slim figure quickly broad-
ened, grew brawny and compe-
tent-looking, the bc^y of a woman
who could breed phenomenally
while farming alongside her man.

Dr. Kalmar racked up the in-
struments and helped Miss Du-
pont dress the girl in coveralls and
sandals. He felt the pride of crafts-
manship when he found that the
clothing supplied for her by Social
Control exactly fitted her. He in-
jected an antidote to the hypnotic
and gave her the standard test for
emotional response as her expres-
sionless face cleared to placidity.

“Do you know where you are,
Avis?”

“Yes. Ego Alter and Rephysi-
cal.”

“What have wc done to you?”

“ Changed me to fit my environ-
ment.”

“Do you resent being changed?”

“No.” She paused and looked
worried. “Who’s taking care of
the crops while I’m here?”

“They can wait till you and
your parents get back, Avis. Let’s
show them the change, shall we?”

“All right,” she said. “I think
they’ll be proud of me. This Is how
they always wanted me to be.”

“And you? ”

“Oh, I feel much better. As if I
don’t have to try so hard.”

“I’m glad, Avis. Miss Dupont,
better have a sedative ready when
her father sees her. I think he’ll
need it.”

“And her mother?” asked the
nurse practically.

“She’ll probably want a drink
to celebrate. Give her one.”

Dr. Kalmar’s prognosis was
correct, only it didn’t go far
enough. His young assistant from
Earth had come scooting out of
his disquietingly large quarters
and was jittering in the office
when they entered.

“ Is that the pretty girl who was
waiting when we came in?” he
yelped in outrage. “What have
you done to her?”

Dr. Kalmar gave the sedative
to him instead of Mr. Emery, who
was shocked, but had known in
advance what to expect. Miss Du-
pont prepared another sedative
quickly, gave Mrs. Emery a cele-
bration drink and moved the fam-
ily toward the door.

“She looks fine, Doctor,” the
mother said happily. “Avis ought
to be a big help around the house
and farm from now on.”

“I’m sure she will,” he said.

“But she was so lovely!” wept
Mr. Emery, though in a rapidly

AMAZING STORIES

l)ecalming voice as the sedative
took effect.

'I'he door closed behind them.

“You ought to l)e reported to
the Medical Association back on
I*)arth!“ Dr. Hoyt said angrily.
“ Ruining a girl’s looks like that!”

Dr. Kalmar sighed. He had
hoped to be able to put off this
orientation lecture until the fol-
lowing day, when there wouldn’t
be so many patients jamming his
api^ointment book.

"All right, let’s get it over with.
First. I was also trained on Earth
and know how Ego Alter and Re-
Ijhysical are used tliere: Ego Al-
ter to remove psychic blocks so
people can compete belter, and
Kephysical so they’ll be more at-
tractive. Second, we’re not under
the jurisdiction of Earth’s Medi-
cal Association. Third, we’d damn
well better not be, because our
problems and solutions aren’t the
same at all.’’

"You’d have been jailed for
s()oiling that girl’s chances of a
good marriage!”

"I didn’t,” Dr. Kalmar said
quietly. "I improved them.”

"You did nothing of the — ”
Dr. Hoyt stopped. "Improved?
How? ”

"I keep telling you this is a
frontier world and you keep act-
ing as if you understand, but you
don’t. Look, a family is an eco-
nomic liability on Earth; it con-
sumes without producing. That’s
why girls have so much trouble

finding husbands there. Out here
it’s ditferent. A family ts an asset
— if every member in It is willing
to work,”

"But a pretty girl like that can
always get by.”

“No Denebian can afford to
marry a pretty girl. It’s too risky.
She can’t work as hard as we do
and still take care of her looks.
And he’d worry about her con-
stantly, which would cut into his
efficiency. By having me make her
a merely attractive girl In a whole-
some, hearty way, Social Control
guarantees more than just a mar-
riage for her — it guarantees a
contented married life.”

"Sweating away on a farm,"
Dr. Hoyt said.

"Now that her anti-social striv-
ings are gone, she’ll realize that
Deneb needs fanners instciid of
nightclub singers. She’ll take pride
in being a good worker, she’ll raise
as many children as she’ll be
capable of bearing, and she’ll
have a good husband and a pros-
perous farm. That wouldn't have
satisfied her before. It will now.
And she's better for it and so is
Deneb.”

Dr. Hoyt shook his head. "It’s
all upside down.”

"You’ll get used to it. Why not
take today off and explore Dcne-
bia? You need a rest after all those
months in space,”

" Maybe I will," said Dr. Hoyt
vaguely, slightly anesthetized.

"Good.” Dr. Kalmar buzzed

NO CHARGE FOR ALTF.R.tTIONS

for Miss Dupont. “Send in the
next patient, please. Oh, and Dr.
Hoyt is taking the day off.”

But the young assistant was
stunned into staying by the huge
size of the Social Control file that
was carried by the next patient,
Mr. Fallon, and his wife.

“ I know just what you’re think-
ing, Dr. Kcthnar!” cried Mrs.
Fallon distractedly, but with a
nervously bright smile. “Those
awful Fallons again ! I don’t blame
you a bit, but — ”

As a matter of fact, that was
exactly what Dr. Kalmar was
thinking, plus the defeated feeling
that they were all he needed to
make the day complete.

“ Good Lord, what’s in all those
files?” Dr. Hoyt exclaimed.

Dr. Kalmar could have ex-
plained, but he didn’t feel up to it.

Mr. Fallon, a wispy, shyly af-
fable, poetic-looking chap, did it
for him. “Papers,” he said.

“1 know that, but why so
many?” Dr. Hoyt asked impa-
tiently.

Miss Dupont seemed wryly
amused as she watched his con-
sternation.

“I guess you might say it’s be-
cause 1 can't make my mind up,”
confessed Mrs. P'allon with an
uneasy giggle. She was a big
woman who might have gurgled
over a collection of toy dogs on
Earth, but here she was a freight
checker and her husband was a

statistician in the Department; of
Supply, though on Earth he might
have been anything from a com-
poser to a social worker. “No
matter how often we rephysical
Harry, I always get tired of his
looks in a few months.”

“And how often has that been
done?” Dr. Hoyt demanded.

“I think it’s eleven times. Isn’t
that right, dear?”

“No, sweet,” said Mr. Fallon.
“Thirteen.”

Dr. Kalmar could have inter-
rupted, but he considered it wiser
to let his assistant learn the hard
way. Miss Dupont was enjoying
it too much to interfere.

“We’ve made him tall and
we've made him short, skinny, fat,
bulging with muscle, red hair,
black hair, blond hair, gray hair
— I don’t know, just about every-
thing in the book,” said Mrs.
Fallon, ‘‘and I simply can't seem
to find one I’d like for keeps.”

“Then why the devil don’t you
get another husband?”

Mrs. Fallon looked .shocked.
“Why, he was assigned to me!”

“Dr. Hoyt just came from
Earth,” Dr. Kalmar cut in at last,
before a brawl could start. “He’s
not familiar with our methods.”

“Let’s hear the cockeyed rea-
son,” Ur. Hoyt said resignedly.

“We keep our population bal-
anced,” said Dr. Kalmar. “Too
many of either sex creates tension,
hostility, lOvSS of efficiency; look at
Earth if you want proof. We can't

AMAZINO STORIKS

risk even a little of that, so we use
prenatal sex control to keep them
exactly equal.”

“There’s a wife for every man,”
Mr. Fallon put in genially, “and a
husbaml for every woman. Works
out fine."

“With no surplus,” Dr. Kalmar
added. “There are no floaters to
allow the kind of marital moving
day you have on Earth, where so
many just up and shift over to
new mates. We get ours for life.
That’s where Ego Alter and Re-
physical come in.”

“You mean people bring in
their mates to have them clone
over?”

"If they’re not satisfied and if
the mates agree lo be changed.”

“I don’t mind,” .said Mr. Fal-
lon virtuously. “I figure Mabel
will decide what she wants one of
these changes, and then we can
settle down and be happy with
each other.”

“But what about you?” asked
Dr. Hoyt, bewildered. “Don't
you want her changed?”

“Oh, no. I like her fine just as
she is.”

“You see now how it works?"
Dr. Kalmar asked. “We can’t
hav'C a variety of mates, but we
can have all the variety we want
in one mate. It comes to the same
thing, as far as I can see, and
causes much less confusion, espe-
cially since we nc^cd stable rela-
tionships.”

Dr. Hoyt was striving heroic-

ally to stay indignant in spite of
the sedative. “And do many ask
to have their mates changed?”

“ I guess we’re a sort of record,
aren’t we?” Mr. Fallon boasted.

“I guess you are,” agreed Dr.
Kalmar. “And now, Dr. Hoyt, if
there aren’t any more questions,
I’d like to proceed with this
couple.”

Dr. Hoyt stretched his eyes
wide to keep them open. “It’% all
screwy to me, but it’s none of iny
business. As soon as I finish my
internship, I’m heading back to
Earth, where things make sense,
so I don't have to understand tliis
mishmash you call a planet. Need
help?”

“If you’d find out what Mrs.
Fallon has in mind this time, it
would let me run the patients
through a lot faster.”

“How would they feel about
it?” Dr. Hoyt asked.

“It’s all right with me.” Mr.
Fallon said amiably. “I'm pretty
used to this, you know."

“But wltat are we going to
make you look like, Harry?” his
wife fretted. “I felt very jealous
of other women when you were
handsome and I didn’t like you
just ordinary-looking.”

“Why not go through the
model book with Dr. Hoyt?” sug-
gested Dr. Kalmar. “There are
still some types you haven’t
tried.”

“There are?” she asked in
gratified astonishment. “Would

NO CH-VRGE FOR .\I.TERATIONS

>ou niiiid very much, Dr. Iloyt?”

“Glad to.” he said.

Miss Dupont broujjht out the
model book for him, and he and
Mrs. Fallon studied the facial and
physical types that were very ex-
plicitly illustrated there in three-
dimensional full color. Mr. Fal-
lon, contentedly working out math
problems on a sheet of paper, left
the choice entirely to her.

Meanwhile. Dr. Kalmar and
Miss Dupont swiftly took care of
a succession of other patients,
raising the tolerance level of frus-
tration in a watchmaker, replat-
ing the acne-pitted skin of a sensi-
tive youth, restoring a finger lost
in a machine-shop accident, and
building up good-natured aggres-
sion in an ore miner whose pro-
ductivity had slumped.

Mrs. Fallon still hadn’t decided
when the last patient had been
taken care of. IShe said unhappily,
“I don’t know. I simply abso-
lutely don’t know. Couldn’t you
suggest something, Dr. Hoyt?”

“Wouldn’t be ethical,” he told
her bluntly. “Not allowed to.”

Dr. Kalmar, checking the So-
cial Control papers with Miss
Dupont, wondered if he should
interfere. It would lower con-
fidence in Dr. Hoyt, which meant
that people would insist on Dr.
Kalmar's treating them. Then,
instead of having an assistant to
remove some of the load, he’d
have to do the work of two men.

He decided to let the young doc-
tor handle it.

But Dr. Hoyt stood up in exas-
peration, slammed the book shut,
and said, “Mrs. Fallon, if you
know what you want, I’ll be glad
to oblige. But I’m not a tele-
pathy — ”

“Is there anything I can do?”
Dr. Kalmar interrupted quickly,
before his assistant could create
any more damage.

“ He doesn't have to get huffy,”
Mrs. Fallon said indignantly.
“All I asked for was a suggestion
or two.”

“Insult my wife, will he?” Mr.
Fallon belligerently added.

“It’s my fault,” Dr. Kalmar
said. “Dr. Hoyt just got in today
from Earth and he’s tired and he
naturally doesn’t understand all
our ways yet — ”

“ Fe/?” Dr. Hoyt repeated In
disgust. “What makes you think
I’ll ever — ”

“And I shouldn’t have bur-
dened him with this problem until
he’s had a chance to rest up and
look around,” Dr. Kalmar con-
tinued In a slightly louder voice.
“Now, let’s see if we can’t settle
this problem before closing time,
eh ? ’ '

The Fallons subsided, Dr. Hoyt
watched with a sarcastic eye,
though he kept silent as Dr. Kal-
mar and Miss Dupont, working
as a shrewd team, gave them the
suggestion they had been looking

AMAZING STORIRS

}

NO CHARGE FOR ALTERATIONS

for. It was all done very smoothly,
so smoothly that Dr. Kalmar felt
professional pride because even
his stiff-neck^ assistant was un-
able to detect the fact that it was
a suggestion.

Dr. Kalmar got Mrs. Fallon to
reminisce about the alterations
her husband had undergone, and
Miss Dupont promptly agreed
with her when she explained why
each had been unsatisfactory. It
took some time, but he eventually
brought her back to what Mr.
Fallon had looked like when she’d
first married him.

“Now, isn’t that the strangest
thing?” she said, puzzled. “I
can’t remember. Can you, dear?”

“It’s a little mixed up,” Mr.
Fallon admitted. “Let’s see, I
know I was taller and I think I
had a long, thin face — ”

“Oh, we don’t have to guess,”
Dr. Kalmar said. “Nurse, we
have the information on file,
don’t we?”

“Yes, Doctor,” she said, and
instantly produced a photograph.
They evidently thought it was
merely filing efficiency; they
hadn’t noticed her searching for
the picture quietly while Dr.
Kalmar had been leading them on.
He had, in fact, delayed asking
her until she’d nodded to indicate
that she had found it.

Mr. Fallon frowned as if he’d
recognized the face but couldn't
remember the name. His wife
gave a little shriek of admiration.

“Why, Harry, you looked per-
fectly wonderful!”

"Those deep dimples made
shaving pretty hard,” he recalled.

“But they’re darlingl Why did
you ever let me change you?”

“Because I wanted you to be
happy, sweet.”

It was as simple as that — a bit
of practical psychology based on
knowledge of the patients. Dr.
Kalmar wished wistfully that old
Dr. Lowell had been there to ob-
serve. He would have approved,
which might have made up for
Dr. Hoyt’s unpleasant expression.

“I hope this is the one you
want,” Dr. Kalmar said as he
took them to the front door after
the rephysical.

“Goodness, I hope so!" Mrs.
Fallon exclaimed. She looked
fondly at her husband, and this
time had to look up to see liis
face. "I’m almost positive this is
what I want Harry to be.”

“Well, if it isn’t, sweet,” Mr.
Fallon said, “we’ll try something
else. I don't mind as long as it
makes you happy.”

They closed the door beliiiid
them, leaving the hospital empty
of all but the small staff.

“They’re crazy!” Dr. Hoyt
exploded. “He’s not the one we
should be changing. That idiotic
female needs a good Ego Alter!”

“He hasn’t asked for it,” Dr.
Kalmar pointed out patiently.

“Then he ought to!”

“That’s his decision, isn't it?

AMAZING STORIES

There’s such a thing as ethics,
you know.”

‘‘I’ve never seen anything more
insane than the way you work,”
snapped Dr. Hoyt. ‘‘I can’t wait
to finish my stretch here and go
home.”

He stamped out, weaving
slightly Ijecause of the sedative.

“Well, what do you think of
our assistant ? ” asked Dr. Kalmar.

‘‘He's cute,” Miss Dupont said
irrationally.

Dr. Kalmar glowered at her.
He'd forgotten that she was due
to have a mate assigned to her
this year.

Routine at the hospital was
anything but routine. Dr. Hoyt
barely kept from yelping each
time someone was treated, and
lus help was given so unwillingly
that Dr. Kalmar, sweating under
a double load and with Dr. Hoyt
to argue with at the same time,
was ail for putting him on the
ship and asking Earth for another
intern. But Miss Dupont talked
him out of it.

For no discernible reason other
than loneline.ss, Dr. Hoyt was
taking her out. She was pleased,
even though he crabbed con-
stantly alxjut the shabby-looking
clothes she wore, which were
typical of Deneb, and the way
they fitted her.

Either tlie two of them didn’t
talk shop, or she had no influence
with him — his criticism and im-

patience grew sharper each week.

It bothered Dr. Kalmar more
than he tliought it should, and
much more than Mrs. Kalmar
wanted it to. She was a pleasant
little woiTUtn who liked things as
they were, which was why Dr.
Kalmar had hesitated all this
while toask her to undergo a slight
rephysical ; he would have pre-
ferred her a little taller, more
filled out, her slight wrinkles
deleted and, while he was think-
ing about it, he wished she’d let
him give her space-black hair in-
stead of her indeterminately
blondisli mop. But lie'd rather
have her as she was than peevish,
so he had never mentioned it.

‘‘Don’t let the boy upset you,
she said, “ft’s only that he’s so
young and inexperienced. You
can’t expect him to adjust quickly
to a new environment and a whole
new medical orientation.”

“But that’s just what annoys
me ! Why, 1 used to hang onto
every word of Dr. Lowell’s when
I came here! I never thought I
knew l>cttc‘r tlian he did.”

“Well, dear, you're you and
Dr. Lowell is Dr. Lowell and Dr.
Hoyt is Dr. Hoyt.”

He tried to think of an answer
and couldn’t. “I suppose so.”

“Maybe you’d feel better if
you spoke to Dr. Lowell about it.”

“What could he do? This is
really an internal problem that I
should work out with Dr. Hoyt, I
can’t involve Dr. Lowell in it.”

NO CIIAROK rOR ALTERATIONS

But it became intolerable when
there was a young girl who
wanted to be a boy and Dr. Kal-
mar and Dr. Hoyt got into the
worst battle yet. Naturally, she
had to be given an Ego Alter to
make her happy about being a
girl, whereas Dr. Hoyt argued
that she should be allowed to be a
boy if that was what she wanted.
Dr. Kalmar explained angrily
once more than the sexes were
exactly balanced and Dr. Hoyt
quoted the rule of personal
choice. It was applicable on
Earth, but not on Deneb, Dr.
Kalmar retorted, to which Dr.
Hoyt snorted something about
playing God.

Dr. Kalmar confessed harshly
to his wife that she was right. He
had to bring old Dr. Lowell into
the situation; it was out of Dr.
Kalmar’s control and was keeping
the hospital In a turmoil. It was
time for Dr. Lowell to inspect the
hospital, the job he had taken in
place of actual retirement. Dr.
Kalmar needed help from Miss
Dupont to bring the problem out
into the op)en. But she became
unexpectedly obstinate.

“I won’t hurt Leo’s career,”
she explained flatly.

Dr. Kalmar gave her a vacant
look. “Leo?”

She blushed. “Dr. Hoyt. He’s
honestly trying to understand,
but he hnds it so different from
Earth. Practically everything we
do here is in reverse.”

‘‘But .so is our environment,
Miss Dupont. Earth is over-
crowded and Deneb is under-
populated, so of course our meth-
ods would be the opposite of
Earth’s. He has to be made to see
that we must solve our problems
our own way.”

She studied his face suspi-
ciously. “That’s all you want?”

“Certainly. Damn it, do you
think I want him fired and sent
back to Earth before his intern-
ship’s up? I know it would hurt
his record. Besides, I need an
assistant — but not one I have to
bicker with every time I make a
move.”

“Well, in that case — ”

“Good girl. All you have to do
is help me hold off the cases he’d
argue about until Dr. Lowell gets
here.” He stared down glumly at
his hands, which were gripping
each other tightly. “God knows
I'm no diplomat. Dr. Lowell is.
He convinced me easily enough
when I came here. Maybe he can
do the same with Dr. Hoyt.”

“Oh, I hope he can," Miss
Dupont said earnestly. “I want
so much to have you and Leo
work together in harmony.”

He glanced up, curious.
“Why?”

“Because I’m in love with
him.”

He found himself nodding bit-
terly. Having Dr. Hoyt go back
to Earth wouldn’t be a fraction as
bad as Miss Dupont leaving w’ith

.^4

AMAZING STORIES

him. So now there was something
else to worry about.

Dr, Lowell came bouncing out
of the jetcab a few days later.
“Tiie hospital better be spot-
less!” he called out jovially, pay-
ing off the harkie. “ I’m in a mean
mood. Liable to suspend every-
body.”

There was a strange lift to Dr.
Kalmar’s spirits as the old man
entered the office. He wished
without hope that he could inspire
the same sort of reverence and
respect. Impossible, of course. Dr.
Lowell was great; he himself was
iiolhiiig more than competent.

Dr. Kalmar introduced his
young assistant to the old man.

‘‘Young and strong,” Dr. Low-
ell approved. ‘‘That’s what we
need on Deneb. Skill is important,
but health and youth even more
so.”

” For those who stay,” said Dr.
Hoyt frostily. ‘‘I’m not.”

Dr, Kalmar felt himself quiver
with rage. The wet-nosed pup
couldn’t talk to Dr. Lowell like
that!

But Dr. Lowell was saying
cheerily, ‘‘You seem to have made
up your mind to go back. No mat-
ter. Some decisions are like egg-
shells — made only to be broken.
I hope that’s what you'll do with
yours. ’ ’

‘‘Not a chance,” Dr. Hoyt said.
He didn’t take the arrogant ex-
pression off his face even when

NO CHARGE FOR ALTERATIONS

Miss Dupont looked at him
pleadingly.

‘‘Then I say let’s signal the
next ship — ” Dr. Kalmar began.

Dr. Lowell cut in quickly, ‘‘ You
two have patients to attend to, I
see. Don't worry about me. I
know my way around this poor
little wretch of a building. Not
much like Earth hospitals, is it?”
He headed for the medical supply
room, adding just before he went
in, ‘‘A lot can be said for small
installations. The personal touch,
you know.”

Dr. Kalmar enviously realized
how deftly the old man had put
the youngster in his place, whereas
he would have stood there and
slugged it out verbally. Lord, if he
could only acquire that awesome
wisdom!

“Well, back to work,” he said,
trying to imitate the cheeriness at
least.

‘‘Sure, let’s ruin some more
lives,” Dr. Hoyt almost snarled.

‘‘I.eo, please!" whispered Miss
Dupont imploringly.

Five minutes later the two doc-
tors were furiously arguing over a
very old man who had been sent
by Social Control to have his
eyesight strengthened.

“You have no right to let any-
body dodder around like this!”
Dr. Hoyt yelled. “What in hell is
Rephysical for if not for such
cases?”

“You probably think we ought
to make him look like 25 again,”

Dr. Kalmar yelled back. “If
that's all you’ve learned working
here — ”

“Now, now,” said Dr. Lowell
soothingly. He’d come in unno-
ticed by either of the men. “Dr.
Hoyt is right, of course. We would
like to make old people young and
some day we’ll be able to afford it.
But not for some time to come.’’

“Why not?’’ Dr. Hoyt de-
manderl in a lower tone, visibly
flattered by Dr. Lowell’s seem-
ingly taking his side.

“Rephysical can’t actually
make anyone young. It can only
give the outward appearance of
youth and replace obviously dis-
eased parts. But an old body is an
old organism ; it has to break down
eventually. If we give it more
vigor than it can endure, it breaks
down too soon, much sooner than
if we let it age normally. That
represents economic loss as well
as a humanitarian one.’’

“ I don’t follow you,” Dr. Hoyt
said bewilderedly.

“Well, our patient used to be a
machinist. A good one. Now he’s
only able to be an oiler. A good
one, too, when you improve his
eyesight. He can go on doing that
for years, performing a useful
function. But he’d wear himself
out in no time as a machinist
again if you de-aged him.”

“Is that supposed to make
sense? ’’

“It does,” said Dr. Lowell,
“for Deneb.”

Dr. Hoyt wanted to continue
the discussion, but Dr. Lowell
was already on his way to inspect
another part of the hospital.
Grumbling, the young man helped
chart the optical nerves that had
to be replaced and measure the
new curve of the retinas ordered
by Social Control.

But he fought just as strenu-
ously over other cases, especially
a retired freight-jet pilot who had
to have his reflexes slowed down
so he could become a contented
meteorologist. Whenever there
was a loud disagreement of this
sort, Dr. Lowell .was there to
mediate calmly.

At the end of the day, Dr. Kal-
mar was emotionally exhausted.
He said as he and Dr. Lowell were
washing up, “The kid’s hopeless.
I thought you could straighten
him out — God knows I couldn't
— but he’ll never see why we
have to work the way we do.”

“What do you suggest?” Dr.
Lowell asked through a towel.

“Send him back to Earth. Get
an iiileni who’s more malleable.”

Dr. Lowell tossed the towel
into the sterilizer. “Can’t be done.
We’re expanding so fast all over
the Galaxy that Earth can’t train
and ship out enough doctors for
the new colonies. If we sent him
back, I don’t know when we'd get
another.”

Dr. Kalmar swallowed. “You
mean it’s him or nobody?”

AM.tZING STOKIICS

“Afraid so."

“But he’ll never fit in on
Deneb! ”

“You did,” Dr. Lowell said.

Dr. Kalmar tried to smile mod-
estly. “I realized immediately
how little I knew and how much
more experience you had. 1 was
willing to learn. Why, I used to
listen to you and watch you work
and try to see your reasons for
doing things — ”

“You think so?” asked Dr.
Lowell.

Dr. Kalmar glanced at him in
astonishment. “You know I did. I
still do, for that matter.”

“When you landed on Deneb,”
said Dr. Lowell, “you were the
most stubborn, opinionated young
ass I’d ever met.”

Dr. Kalmar’s smile became an
appreciative grin. “Damn, I wish
1 had that light touch of yoiins!”

“You were so dogmatic and
argumentative that Dr. lloyt is a
suggestible schoolboy in compari-
son.”

“Well, you don’t have to go
that far,” Dr. Kalmar said. “I get
what you’re driving at — every
intern needs orientation and I
should be more patient and un-
derstanding.”

“Then you don’t follow me at
all,” stated Dr. Lowell. “Invite
Dr. Hoyt, Miss Dupont and me
to your house for dinner tonight
and maybe you’ll get a better idea
of what I mean.”

XO CHARGE FOR ALTERATIONS

“Anything for a free meal,
eh? ”

“And to keep a doctor here on
Deneb that we’d lose otherwise.”

“Implying that I can’t do it.”

“Isn't that the decision you'd
come to?”

“Yes, I guess it is,” Dr. Kalmar
confessed. “All right, how about
dinner at my house tonight? I’ll
round up the other two and call
Harriet so she’ll expect us.”

“Delighted to come,” said Dr.
Lowell. “Nice of you to ask me.”

Miss Dupont was elated at the
invitation and Dr. Hoyt said he
had nothing else to do anyway.
On the videophone Mrs. Kalmar
was dismayed for a moment, until
Dr. Lowell told her to put
through an emergency order to
Central Commissary and he’d
verify it.

That was when Dr. Kalmar
realized how serious the old man
was. On a raw planet where crises
were ev^eiyday routine, a situation
had to be catastrophic before it
could be called an emergency.

Dinner on Deneb was the same
as anywhere else in the Galaxy.
To free women for other work,
food was delivered weekly in
cooked form. A special messenger
from Central Commissary had
brought the emergency rations
and Mrs. Kalmar had simply
punctured the self-heat cartridges
and put the servings in front of
each guest; the containers were

disposable plates and came with
single-use plastic utensils. No
garbage, no preparation, no clean-
ing up afterward, except to toss
them ail into the converter fur-
nace. Dr. Hoyt was still not accus-
toned to wholly grown foods; he’d
been raised on synthetics, of
course, which were the staples on
Earth.

“Well, that was good,” said
Dr. Lowell, getting up from the
table with his round little belly
comfortably expanded. “Now,
let’s have a few drinks before we
start a professional bull session.
Where do you keep your liquor?
I’d like to mix my special so Dr.
Hoyt can see we colonials are not
so provincial.”

“Good Lord, I haven’t had
your special for years! ” exclaimed
Dr. Kalmar. “Since about the
time I came to Deneb, in fact.”

“That’s why it’s a special. Re-
served for state occasions, such as
arrivals of colleagues from our
dear old home planet.”

“Oh, you don’t have to go to
all that bother,” said Dr. Hoyt.
“You’d have to make it twice —
once now and once when I leave.’’

“That won’t be for quite a
while, will it?” Miss Dupont
asked anxiously.

“As soon as I finish my intern-
ship. No more alien worlds for me.
I like Earth.”

Mrs. Kalmar got him to talk
about it, which was much easier
than getting him to stop, while

Dr. Kalmar showed the old man
where the liquor stock and fixings
were kept. Watching him mix tlic
ingredients with a chemist’s care,
Dr. Kalmar felt a glow of nostal-
gia. He recalled the celebration
at Dr. Lowell's house, several
months after he had come from
Earth, when he’d enjoyed himself
so much that he’d passed out. It
was one of the pleasanter memo-
ries of his start on Deneb.

"Can’t mix them all in a single
batch,” Dr. Lowell explained,
bringing the drinks over one at a
time as he finished preparing
them. “Mrs. Kalmar . . . Miss
Dupont . . . our gracious host.
Dr. Kalmar . . . and now Dr.
Hoyt and myself.” He lifted his
glass at Dr. Hoyt. “Welcome to
our latest associate — product,
like ourselves, of the great medi-
cal schools of Earth. It’s a forlorn
hope, but may he learn as much
from us about our peculiar metli-
ods as we learn from him about
the latest terrestrial advances.”

Dr. Hoyt, smiling as if he
didn’t think it possible, stood up
when they’d downed their toast
to him. “To Earth,” he said.
“May I get back in record time.”
He gulped it, said, “Delicious —
for a colonial drink,” and froze
with his smile as fi.xed as if it had
been painted on.

“Leo!” Miss Dupont cried, and
shook him, but he stayed frozen.

“The man’s allergic to alco-

AMAZING STORIES

hoi!” said Dr. Kalmar, astonished.

“Do something!” Mrs. Kalmar
begged. “Don’t let him stand
there like that! He — he looks
like a petrified man!”

“Don’t get panicky,” said Dr.
Lowell in a quiet, confident voice.
“That’.s when yon passed out,
Dr. Kalmar. Right after your first
taste of my special.”

“But we haven’t,” Dr. Kalmar
objected.

“Naturally. Your drinks
weren’t drugged.”

“Drugged?” shrieked Miss Du-
pont. "You doped him?”

"That’s rather obvious, isn’t
it? ”

“But — what for?” Dr. Kal-
mar stammered.

"Same reason I slipped you a
mickey not long after you got
here. We can't take any chances
that he’ll ship back to Earth. You
see? ”

"I don’t,” raged Miss Dupont.
“I think it’s a cheap, dirty, foul
trick and it won’t work, either.
You can't keep him drugged.”

“I don’t like you talking to
Dr. Lowell like lliaL,” said Dr.
Kalmar indignantly.

“You should be the last one to
object,” Mrs. Kalmar pointed
out. “He said he drugged you,
too.”

"I know,” Dr. Kalmar said
blankly. “I don’t understand — ”

“You will,” promised Dr. Low-
ell. “Just come along and don’t
interfere. Better give him the

order; it’ll keep things straighter.”

Mrs. Kalmar was grimly disap-
proving and Miss Dupont was
close to hysteria. Only Dr. Kal-
mar relaijied his awed respect for
Dr. Lowell. If the old man said it
was all right, it was, even if he
couldn’t see the reason.

“Go ahead,” urged Dr. Lowell.

“Dr. Hoyt!”

“Yes, Dr. Kalmar?”

“You will come with us!”

“Yes, Dr. Kalmar.”

Dr. Lowell took them back to
the hospital.

“Now what?” asked Dr. Kal-
mar.

“You actually don’t know?”
Miss Dupont demanded. “He
wants to put Leo through the
Ego Alter.”

"That’s absurd,” Dr. Kalmar
said angrily, "and an outright
slander. Dr. Lowell wouldn't con-
sider suqji a thing — the boy
didn’t ask for it and it wasn’t
authorized by Social Control.”

Dr. Lowell smiled genially and
opened the door to the Ego Alter
room. "I hate to disillusion you,
Dr. Kalmar. That’s exactly what
I have in mind — the same thing
I did to you.”

"That’s absurd,” Dr. Kalmar
repeated, but with less conviction
ajid more confusion than before.

“It worked. Tell him to sit
down.”

Dr. Kalmar did, and automa-
tically fitted the w'ired plastic
helmet to Dr. Hoyt's head.

NO CH.4.RGE FOR ALTERATIONS

“You can’t!” cried Miss Du-
pont as he reached for the dials on
the control console. “It’s not
fair!”

“Let's not get involved in a
discussion on ethics,” Dr. Lowell
said. “Ueneb can’t afford to lose
him; we need every doctor we
have. If he goes back to Earth it
may be years before we get a
replacement.”

“But you can’t do it without ,
his constmt!”

“There’s time for that later,”
the old man grinned. “Keep his
eyes on you, Dr. Kalmar, while
you build up his father image. Cut
down on hostility, aggression and
power drive. Boost social respon-
sibility and adventurousness. But
make sure he’s looking at you
constantly.”

"I won’t allow it,” said Mrs.
Kalmar flatly. “You won’t make
my husband violate his oath.”

“ I did it to him, didn't I? " Dr.
Lowell replied jovially. “It got
you a husband.”

Miss Dupont grabbed at Dr.
Kalmar's hand, but he had al-
ready turned on the current.

“Anything else?” he asked.

“Well, he has to get married, of
course,” Dr. Lowell said. “Let
him look at Miss Dupont — - she’s
scheduled for this year, isn’t she?
— while you give him a shot of
mating urge. Now, wipe out the
memory of this incident and put
him on a joy jag. We can validate
that by liquoring him up after-

ward. When you’re finished, bring
him to.”

Dr. Hoyt came out of it almost
with a whoop. He lurched out of
the insulated seat, stared at Miss
Dupont for a moment with eyes
that almost glittered, and seized
and kissed her.

“My goodness!” she gasped.

“Now, what were you saying
about ethics?” Dr. Lowell asked.

There was no answer. Both
Miss Dupont and Mrs. Kalmar
had frozen.

“You drugged them, too?” Dr.
Kalmar weakly wanted to know.

“A bit slower-acting,’’ ad-
mitted the old man. “All you
have to do with them is wipe out
the last half hour. Don’t want
any witnesses to an unethical act,
you know. Oh, and put' them on a
jag also.”

Dr. Kalmar followed instruc-
tions.

Finished, they left the three
uproariously drunk in the waiting
room and went to wash up. Dr.
Kalmar went along bewilderedly.
The old man was as unconcerned
as if he did this sort of thing daily.

“I was as arrogant and bel-
ligerent as this squirt was?”

"Worse,” Dr. Lowell said. “He
was willing to finish out his in-
ternship. You weren’t. Still wor-
ried about the ethics?”

“Yes. Naturally.”

“All right, apply some logic,
then. Are you happier on Deneh
than you’d have been on Earth?”

AMAZING STORIHS

“Well, certainly. I’d have been
lucky to get a job doctoring in a
summer camp. I wouldn’t trade a
roomy planet like this fur the
jammed cubicles of Earth. And I
like our methods belter than ter-
restrial dogma. But those arc my
preferences. I can't inflict them on
anybody else.”

“The hell they were your pref-
erences. You bickered more about
our methods and longed more
loudly for the tenements of Earth
than this lad ever did. All it took
was a slight Ego Alter and you
have a happier fife than you would
have had. Right?”

Dr. Kalmar felt his tension
ease. If the old man said it was
right, it was. He became momen-
tarily resentful when he realized
that that reaction had been in-
stalled by Dr. Lowell, but then he
smilerl. It really was right. A bit
arbitrary, perhaps, but for the
good of Dr. Hoyt and Deneh iji
the long run, just as it had been
for himself.

“Look,” he said, drying his
arms. “I've been wanting my
wife to go through a slight
rephysical.”

“Why don't you ask her?”

“The fact is that I’m afraid
she’ll think Tm dissatisfied and I
don’t want her to get resentful.”

“Maybe she'd like you to do
some changing, too."

“What for? I’m all right.”

“She probably feels the same
way about herself.”

“But all I want are a few
changes In her. She’s as high as a
space pilot now. It would be a
cinch to — ”

Dr. Lowell flung down the
towel and gave him an outraged
glare. “There’s such a thing as
professional ethics, Dr. Kalmar!”

“But you — ”

“That’s different. It was a
social decision, not a selfish one.
If you ."isk her and she agrt^es,
that’s up to her. But you can’t
take advantage of her in an ego-
centric, arbitrary way. You just
try it and I’ll have you sent back
to Earth.”

Dr. Kalmar felt his knees grow
weak in alarm. “No, no. It’s not
that important. Just an insig-
nificant kind of wish.”

And it was, he discovered when
they went out to the wailing
room. Unused to jags, Mrs. Kal-
mar was more affectionate than
she'd been since they were first
married ; he’d have to remember
to go on them periodically with
her. Miss Dupont, unwilling to
budge out of Dr. Hoyt’s light
arms, had glassily joyous eyes.
Dr. Hoyt didn’t let her go until he
caught sight of Dr. Kalmar.

“Greatest doctor I ever met,”
he said enthusiastically. “ Woti’ful
planet, Deneb. Just wanna marry
Miss Dupont, stay here and learn
at your feet. Okay?”

Dr. Kalmar’s glance at the old
man was no leas worshipful. “It
couldn’t be okayer,” he said.

NO CHARGE FOR ALTERATIONS

By THEODORE STURGEON

Paul was running away from home. Maybe someday he'd come
back, covered with glory and a few scars. To a guy who rescues
fair damsels from alligators, scars are badges of honor.

Wait a minute. Paul didn't have scars; that zoas the young
man who knew about women in Sacramento. Woman who rode
around in expensive cars and ate chocolate-covered cherries
... or was that some other woman?

If you've the knack of remembering what it was like to be a
small boy, how easy it was to get day-dreams and reality mixed
until you weren't .yure where one left off and the other began,

then Theodore Sturgeon wrote

WniJN Paul ran away from
home, he met no one and
saw nothing all the way to the
highway. The highway swept sud-
den and wide from the turn by
Keeper’s Rise, past the blunt end
of the Township Road, and nar-
rowed off to a distant pinpoint
pricking at the horizon. After a
time Paul could see the car.

It was new and long and it
threw down its snout a little as
the driver braketl, .and when it
stopped beside him it seesawed
easily, once, on its big soft
springs.

'I'he driver was a large man,
large and costly, with a grey
Stetson and a dove-colored top-
coat made of something that tlid
not crease in the bend of his arms
but rolled and folded instead. The
woman beside him had a broad
brow and a pointed chin. Her skin
had peach shadings, but was
deeply tanned, and lier hair was

this story especially for you!

the red gold called “straw color”
by a smith as he watches Ins
forge. She smiled at the man and
she smiled at Paul almost the
same way.

“Hi, son.” the man said. "This
the old Township Road?”

“Yes sir,” said Paul, “it sure
is.”

“ Figured it was,” said the man.
“A feller don’t forget.”

“ Reckon you don’t.” said Paul.

“Haven’t seen the old town in
twenty years,” said the man. “J
guess it ain’t changed much.”

“These old places don’t change
much,” said Paul with scorn.

“Oh, they ain’t so bad to come
back to,” said the man. “ Mate to
get chained down in one all my
life, though.”

“Me too,” agreed Paul. “You
from .around here?'”

“Why sure,” said the m.in.
“My name’s Roudenbush. Any
more Roudenbushes around

here that you know of, boy?”

“Place is full of ’em,” said
Paul. “Hey! You’re not the
Roudenbush kid that ran aw^ay
twenty years ago?”

“The very one,” said the man.
“What happened after 1 left?”

“Why, they talk about you to
this day,” said Paul. “Your
mother sickened and died, and
your pa got up in meetin’ a month
after you left an’ asked forgiveness
for treatin’ you so mean.”

“Poor old feller,” said the man.
“I guess it was a little rough of
me to run out like that. But he
aftked for it.”

“ I bet he did.”

“This is my wife,” said the
man.

The woman smiled at Paul
again. She did not speak. Paul
could not lliink up what kind of a
voice she might have. She leaned
forward and opened up the glove
compartment. It was cram full of
chocolate-covered cherries.

“Been crazy about these ever
since I was a kid,” said the man.
“Help yourself. I got ten pounds
of them in the back.” He leaned
into the leather cushions, took
aut a silver cigar case, put a cigar
between his teeth, and applied a
lighter that flamed up like a little
bonfire in his hand. “Yes, sir,”
said the man. “J got two more
cars back in the city, and a
tuxedo suit with shiny lapels. I
made my killing in the stock mar-
ket. and now I’m president of a

railroad. I’ll be getting back there
this evening, after 1 give the folks
in the old town a treat.”

Paul had a handful of choco-
late-covered cherries. “Gee,” he
said. After that he walked on
down the highway. The cherries
disappeared and the man and the
lady and the car all disappeared,
but that didn’t matter. “ It’ll be
like that,” said young Paul Rou-
denhush. “ It’ll be just like that.”
Then, “ I wonder what that lady’s
name’ll be.”

A quarter of a mile down the
pike was the turnoff to the
school, and there was the railroad
crossing with its big X on a i>ole
wliich he always read RAIL
CROSSING ROAD. The fore-
noon freight was bowling down
the grade, screaming two longs, a
short, and a long. When he was a
kid, two years or so back, Paul
used to think it saluted him: Paul
. . . Roud . . . n’ Bush-h-h . . . with
the final sibilant made visible in
the plume of steam on the en-
gine’s iron shoulder. Paul trotted
up to the crossing and stood just
where the first siilintered plank
met the road surface. Engine,
tender, Pennsylvania, Nickel
Plate. T. & N. O., Southern,
Sou t licrn , Pen n sy 1 va n la , I ’^re
Marquette, Canadian Pacific.
Cars from all over: hot places,
cold places, far places. Automo-
biles, automobiles, cattle, tank.
Tank tank cattle. Refrigerator,
refrigerator, automobiles, ca-

AMAZING STORIKS

boose. Caboose with a red Hag
flying, and a glimpse at _the
window of a bull-necked trainman
shaving, suds on his jowls like a
mad dog. Then the train was a
dwindling rectangle on the track,
and on its top was the silhouette
of a brakeman, leaning easily into
wind and velocity, walking on
lop of the boxcars.

With the train in one ear and
dust in the other, Paul faced the
highway. A man stood at the
f)ther side of the tracks. Paul
gaped at him.

He was wearing an old brown
jacket with a grey sheepskin col-
lar, and blue dungarees. These he
was dusting off with long weather-
beaten hands, one of which — the
right — looked like a claw. There
was no ring-finger or little finger,
and a third of the palm’s breadth
was gone. From the side of the
middle finger to the side of the
wrist, the hand was neatly sealed

with a type of flexible silvery
scar-tissue.

He looked up from his dusting
at Paul. "Hi, bub.” Either he had
a beard or he badly needed a
shave. Paul could see the cleft in
his square chin, though. The man
had eyes as pale as the color of
water poured into a glass after the
milk had been drunk.

Paul said "Hi,” still looking at
the hand. The man asked him
what that town was over there in
the hollow, and Paul told him. He
knew now what the man was —
one of those fabulous characters
who rides on freight trains from
place to place. Rides the rods.
Catch a fast freight out of Casey,
which was K.C., which was Kan-
sas City. They had been evcr>’-
where and done everything, these
men, and they had a langu.agc all
their own. Handouts and line
bulls, Chi and mulligan and grab
a rattler to Nollins.

The man squinched up his eyes

at the town , as if he were trying to
drive his gaze through the hill and
see more. “The old i>lare hasn't
growed none," lie said, and spat.

Paul spat too. “Never will,’’ he
said.

“You from there?”

“ Vup."

“Me too," said the man sur-
prisingly.

“Gosh," said Paul. “You don’t
look like you came from around
here.”

The man crossed the single
track to Paul’s side. “I guess I
don’t. 1 been a lot of places since I
left here.”

“Where jou been?” asked Paul.

The man looked into Paul's
open eyes, and through them to
Paul’s open credulousness. “All
over the world,” he said. “All over
this country on freights, and all
over the oceans on ships.” He
bared his right forearm. “Look
there.” And sure enough he had a
tattoo.

“Women,” said the man, flexing
his claw so that the tattoo writhed.
“That’s what 1 like.” lie closed
one pale eye, pushed his mouth
sidewise under it, and clucked a
rapid chick-chick from his pale
cheek.

Paul wet his lips, spat again,
and said, “Yeh. Oh boy.”

The man laughed. He liad bad
teeth. “You’re like I was. Wasn’t
room enough in that town for
me.”

“Me either,” said Paul. “I

ain’t' going back there no more."

“Oh, you’ll go back. You’ll
want to look it over, and ask a
few questions around, and find out
what happened to your old gals,
and see how dead evcrj'thing is,
so’s you can go away again knowin’
you dune right to leave in the first
place. . . . I'liis here’s niy second
trip back. Seems like every time I
go through this part o’ the worlil I
just got to drop by here and let the
old burg give me a couple laughs.”*
He turned his attention right
around and looked outward again.
“ You really are headin’ .out, bub?”

“Headin' out,” nodded Paul.
He likcxl the sound of that. “Headin’
out." he said again.

“Where you bound?”

“The city,” I*aul said,” unless
1 hit somethin’ I like better ’fore
I get there.”

The man considered him. “ Hey.
Got any money?”

Paul shook his hcail cautiously.
He had two dollars and ninety-
two cents. The man seemed to
make some decision : he shrugged.
“Well, good luck, bub. More
places you see, more of a man
you'll be. Woman told me that
once, in Sacramento.”

“Th- — oh\” said Paul. Ap-
proaching the grade crossing was
a maroon coupe. “It’s Mr. Sher-
man!”

“Who’s he?”

“The sheriff. He’ll be out lookin’
for me! ”

AMAZING STORIES

“Sheriff! Me for the brush.
Don’t tag me. you little squirt ! Go
the other way!” and he dived
down the embankment and dis-
appeared into the bushes.

I'rightened by the man’s sud-
den harshness, confused by the
necessity for instant action, Paul
sluiffled for a moment, almost
dancing, and then ran to the other
side. Flat on his stomach in a
growth of fireweed, he stopped
breathing and peered at the road,
d’he coupe slowed, all but stopped.
Paul closed his eyes in terror.
Then he heard the grate of gears
and the rising whine as the car
pulled over the tracks in second
gear and moaned on up the high-
way.

Paul waited five minutes, his
fear leaving him exactly as fast as
his sweat dried. Then he emerged
and hurried along the highway,
keeping a sharp watch ahead for
the sheriff’s returning car. He saw
no sign of the man wdth the claw.
But then, he hadn't really ex-
Ijccled to.

It could be like that, he thought.
Travel this old world over. Gramps
used to say that men like that had
an itching foot, l^aul’s feet itched
a little, if he thought about it.
Hurt a little, too. He could come
back years from now with a tattoo
and a mutilated hand. Folks’d
really take notice. The stories he
could tell! “/ run down the bank,
see, to haul ibis tomato out o’ th'
drink. She was yellin' her blonde

head off. No sooner got my hooks on
her when clomp! a alligator takes
off part o’ me hand. I didn't mind
none. Not when I carried this babe
up the bank.” lie shut one eye,
puslied his mouth sideways, and
clucked. 'I’he sound, somehow, re-
minded him of chocolate-covered
cherries. . . .

Another half-mile, and the coun-
try became more open. He flicked
his eyes from side to si<le as he
trudged. I'irst sign of that maroon
coupe and he’d have to fade.
"Sheriff! Me for the brush!” He
felt good. He could keep ahead of
the law. Bet your life. Go where
you want to go, do what you want
to do, come back for a laugli every
once in a while. That was better,
even, than a big car and a tuxedo
suit. Women. A smooth-faced one
in the car beside you or chick-
chick! women all over, Sacramento
and every place, to tell you what a
man you are, because of all the
places you’ve been. Yup; that was
it.

7'here was a deep drone from
overhead. Paul looked up and saw
the plane — one of the private
planes that l)ased at the airport
forty miles away. Planes were no
novelty, but Paul never saw one
without an expressed wish that
something would happen — not
necessarily a crash, though that
wouldn’t i>e bad, but niucii rather
something that would bring the
plane down for a forced landing, so

THE WAY HOME

he could run over and see the
pilot get out, and maybe talk to
him or even help him fix the
trouble. “Let me know next time
you’re at the field,” the pilot
would say. . . .

Paul slowed, stopped, then went
to the shoulder and sat down with
his feet in the dry ditch. He
watched the plane. It dipped a
wing and circled, went off and
came lower, made a run over the
meadow. Paul thought he was go-
ing to — well, of course he was
goiixg to land!

The wheels touched, kicked up
a puff of yellow dust that whisked
out of existence in the prop-wash.
They touched again and held the
earth; the tail came down, bounced
a little, and then the plane was
carrying its wings instead of being
carrierl. 'I’he wings were orange
and the fuselage was blue, and it
was glossy in the sun. The wings
wobbled slightly as the plane tax-
ied over the lumpy meadow, and
Paul knew that if he held out his
arms and wobbled them like that
he would feel it In his shoulders.

The motor barked, and the pro-
pellor-bladcs became invisible as
the pilot braked one wheel anrl
turned the ship in its own length.
The proj^ellor, in profile, was a
ghostly band and then a glass disc
as the plane swung toward Paul.
It snorted and wobbled across the
meadow until it was within twenty
feet of the fence and the ditch.
Then, with a roar, it swung broad-

side to him and the sound of the
motor dwindled to an easy pwap!-
tick-tickety-pwap! while the pilot
did knowledgeable things at the
controls. Paul could see him in
there, plain as day, through the
cabin doors. The plane was beau-
tiful; standing still it looked as if it
was going two hundred miles an
hour. The windshield swept right
back over the pilot’s head. It was
fine.

The pilot opened the door and
vaulted to the ground. “Glory be!
You’d think they’d have a field
built in town after all those
years."

“They never will,” said Paul.
'‘Nice job you got there.”

The pilot, pulling off a pair of
high-cuffed gloves, looked briefly
at the plane and grinned. He was
very clean and had wide shoulders
and practically no hips. He wore
a good soft leather jacket and
tight breeches. “Know anybody
in town, son?”

“Everybody, I guess.”

“Well, now. I can get ail the
news from you before I go on in.”

“Say — ain't you Paul Rouden-
bush?”

Paul froze, lie hadn’t said that.
There were sudden icy cramps in
the backs of his knees. The plane
vanished. The pilot vanished. Paul
sat with his feet in the dry ditch
and slowly turned his head.

A maroon coupe stood by the
ditch. Its door was open, and

AMAZING STORIES

there, one foot on the ninning-
boanl, was Mr. Sherman. Sherif^^
Me for the brush!

Instead, he licked his lips and
said, “ffi, Mr. Sherman.”

” My,” said Mr. Sherman, "you
give me a turn, you did. Saw you
sitting there so still, figured you’d
been hit by a car or some such.”

” I’m all right,” said Paul faintly,
lie rose. Might as well get it over
with. "I was just . . . thinkiii’, 1
guess.”

Thinking — and now he was
caught, and the thoughts raced
through him like the cars of the
forenoon freight; thoughts from
hot places, cold places, far places.
Stock-market, car, claw claw plane.
Women, women, cigarette-lighter,
lauding field. Thoughts that were
real, thoughts that he made up;
they barrelled on through him.
with a roar and a swirl, and left
him standing, facing the highway,
and Mr. Sherman, who had caugliL
him.

“Thinking, eh? Well, I’m right
relieved,” said Mr. Sherman. He
got back in the car, slammed the
door, stepped on the starter.

” Mr. Sherman — ain’t you — ”

"Ain’t I what, son?”

‘‘Notiiin’, Mr. Sherman. Notliin"
at all.”

"You’re a weird one,” said Mr.
Sherman, shaking his head. "Hey,
I’m heading back into town. Want
a lift? It's near eating time.”

“No, thanks,” said Paul imme-
diately and with great sincerity.

Paul watched the maroon coupe
move off, his mind racing. The car
was going into town. Without
him. Mr. Shcritian did not know
he was running away. Why not?
Well, they hadn't missed him yet.
Unless . . . unless they didn’t
care whether he came hack or not.
No. No, that couldn’t be! The
car would go right past his house,
soon’s it got in town. Wasn’t much
of a house. In it, though, was his
own room. Small, but absolutely
his own.

The trouble with the other ways
to go back, it took time to make a
killing in the stock-market and
get married. It took time to ac-
quire a plane. It probably took
quite a while to get part of your
hand cut off. But this way —

Suddenly he was in the road
screaming, "Mr. Sherman! Mr.
Sherman!”

Mr. Sherman didn’t hear him
but he saw him in the rear-view
mirror. He stopped and backed ui>
a bit. Paul climbed in, gasped his-
thanks, and sat still, working on
his wind. He got it all back just
about the time they turned into
the Township Road.

Mr. Sherman glanced abruptly
at the boy. "Paul.”

“ Yessir.”

" I just had a thought. You,
way out there on the pike; were
you running away?’’

Paul said "No.” His eyes were
more puzzled than anything else.
” I was coming back,” he said.

THE VV.\Y HOME

r^'Vr.ri

TURNOVER POINT

By ALFRED COPPEL

Every era in history has had its Pop Ganlon's. Along
in years and not successful and not caring much
anyway. A matter of living out their years, following
an obscure path to oblivion.

It was that way in ancient Egypt, just as it will be
when the Solar System shrinks to our size. And once
in a while such men are given an opportunity to
contribute to the society that has forgotten them. . . .

Pop Ganlon was no hero — he
was only a spaceman. A space-
man and a father. In fact, Pop
was rather no-account, even in a
profession that abounded with
drifters. lie had made a meagre
living prospecting asteroids and

hauling light freight and an oc-
casional passenger out in the Belt
Region. Coffee and cakes, nothing
more. Not many people knew Pop
had a son in the Patrol, and even
fewer knew it when the boy was
blasted to a cinder In a back alley
in Lower IVIarsport.

Pop went on eating and breath-
ing, but his life was over after
that. He hit the bottle a little
harder and his ship. The Luck,
grew rustier and tackier, and
those were the only outward signs
that Pop Ganlon was a living
dead man. He kept on grubbing
among the cold rocks and pusliing
The Luck from Marsport to Cal-
listo and back with whatever low-
mass payloads he could pick up.
He might have lived out his
string of years like that, obscure
and alone, if it hadn’t been for
John Kane. Kane was Pop Gan-
lon’s ticket to a sort of personal
immortality — if there is sucli a
thing for an old spaceman.

It was in Yakki, down-canal
from Marsport, that Kane found
Pop. There is a biUciII spacej)orl
there — a boneyard, really — for
buckets whose skippers can’t pay
the heavy tariff imposed by the
hig ramp. All the wrecks nest
there while waiting hopefully for
a payload or a grulrstake. They
have all of Solis I..acus for a land-
ing field, and if they spill it
doesn't matter much. The drifting
red sands soon cover up the scat-
tered shards of dural and the slow,

lonely life of Yakki goes on like
before.

The Patrol was on Kane’s trail
and the blaster in his hand was
still warm when he shove<l it up
against Pop Ganlon's ribs and
made his proposition.

He wanted to get off Mars —
out to Callisto. To Blackwater,
to Ley's Landing, it didn’t matter
too much. Just off Mars, and
quickly. His eyes had a metallic
glitter and his hand was rock-
steady. Pop knew he meant what
he said when he told him life was
cheap. Someone else’s life, not
Kane’s.

That’s how it happened that
The Luck lifted that night from
Yakki, outward bound for Ley’s
Landing, with Pop and Kane
aboard her alone.

Sitting at the battered console
of The Luck, Pop watched his
passenger. He knew Kane, of
course. Or rather, he knew of him.
A killer. The kind that thrives and
grows fat on the frontiers. The
bulky frame, ihe cropped black
hair, the predatory eyes that
looked like two l)laster muzzles.
They were all familiar to Pop.
Kane was all steel and meanness.
The kind of carrion bird that
took what others had worked for.
Not big time, you understand.
In another age Ite’d have been a
torpedo — a hireling killer. But
out among the stars he was work-
ing for himself. And doing well.

AMAZING STORIES

Pop didn’t care. His loyalty to
the Patrol had stopped quite sud-
denly not long before — in a dark
alley in Lower Marsport. This
was only a job, he told himself
now. A job for coffee and cakes,
and maybe a grubstake to work a
fow more lonely rocks. Life had
become a habit for Pop, even if
living had ended.

“What are you staring at,
!*op?’’ Kane’s voice was like the
rest of him. Harsh and cold as
space itself.

“At you, I guess,” Pop said,
“ I was wondering what you’d
done — and where — and to
whom.”

“You’re a nosey old man,”
Kane said. “Just get me to Ley’s
Landing. That's w’hat I'm paying
for, not a thing more.”

Pop nodded slowly and turned
back to the control board. They
were above the Belt by now, and
a few short hours from turnover
point. The cranky drives of The
Luck needed all his attention.

Ih-esently he said, “We’ll be
turning over soon. Want to get
some rest? ”

Kane laughed. “No thanks, old
man. I’ll stay here and watch
you.”

Pop eyed the ready blaster
and nodded again. He wondered
v'aguely how it would feel to die
under the blast of such a weapon.
It couldn’t be very painful. He
hoped it wasn’t painful. Perhaps
tile boy hadn’t sulTered. It would

be nice to be sure, he thought.

There wasn’t much for Pop
to remember about the boy. He’d
never been one for writing many
letters. But the District Patrol-
man had come down to Yakki and
looked Pop up — afterward. He’d
said the boy was a good officer.
A good cop. Died doing his job,
and tall that sort of thing. Pop
swallowed hard. Ilis job. What
had ‘his job’ been that night in
Lower Marsport, he wondered.
Had someone else finished it for
him?

He remembered about that
time hearing on the Mars Radio
that a Triangle Post Office had
been knocked over by a gunman.
That might have been it. The Pa-
trol would be after anyone knock-
ing over EMV Triangle property.
The Earth-Mars-Venus Govern-
ment supported the Patrol for
things like that.

I’op guided The Luck skill-
fully above the Belt, avoiding
with practiced case the few er-
rant chunks of rock that hurtled
up out of the swarms. He talked
to Kane because he was starved
for talk — certainly not because
he was trying to play Sherlock.
Pop had long ago realized that he
was no mental giant. Besides, he
owx*d the Patrol nothing. Not a
damned thing.

“Made this trip often?” Pop
tried to strike up a conversation
with Kane. His long loneliness
seemed sharper, somehow, more

TURNOVER POINT

poignant, when he actually had
someone to talk to.

“Not often. I’m no space pig.”
It was said with scorn.

“There’s a lot to spacing, you
know,” Pop urged.

Kane shrugged. “I know easier
ways to make a buck, old timer.”

“Like how?”

“A nosey old man, like I said,”
Kane smiled. Somehow, the smile
wasn’t friendly. “Okay, Pop,
since you ask. Like knocking off
wacky old prospectors for their
dust. Or sticking up sandcar cara-
vans out in Syrtis. Who's the
wiser? The red dust takes care of
the leftovers.”

Pop shook his head. “Not for
me. There’s the Patrol to think
of.”

Kane laughed. “Punks. Bell-
boys. They’d better learn to shoot
before they leave their school-
books.”

Pop Ganlon frowned slightly.
“You talk big, mister.”

Kane’s eyes took on that metal-
lic glitter again. He leaned for-
ward and threw a canvas packet
on the console. It spilled crisp
new EMV certificates. Large ones.
“1 take big, too,” he said.

Pop stared. Not at the money.
It was more than he had ever seen
in one pile before, but it wasn’t
that that shook him. It was the
canvas packet. It was marked:
Foslal Service, EMV. Pop sud-
denly felt cold, as though an icy
wind had touched him.

“You . . . you killed a Patrol-
man for this,” he said slowly.

“That’s right. Pop,” grinned
Kane easily, “Burned him down
in an alley in Lower Marsport.
It was like taking candy from a
baby. . . .”

Pop Ganlon swallowed hard.
“Like taking candy from a . . .
baby. As easy as that. ...”

“As easy as that, old man,”
Kane said.

Pop knew he was going to die
then. He knew Kane would blast
him right after turnover point,
and he knew fear. He felt some-
thing else, too. Something that
was new to him. Hate. An icy
hate that left him shaken and
weak.

So the boy’s job hadn’t been
finished. It was still to do.

There was no use in dreaming of
killing Kane. Pop was old. Kane
was yo\mg — and a killer. Pop
was alone and without weapons —
save The Luck. . . .

Time passed slowly. Outside,
the night of deep space keened
soundlessly. The stars burned
bright, alien and strange. It was
time, thought Pop bleakly. Time
to turn The Luck.

“Turnover point,” he said
softly.

Kane motioned with his blaster.
“Get at it.”

Pop began winding the fly-
wheel. It made a whirring sound
in the confined space of the tiny

AMAZING STORIES

control room. Outside, the night
began to pivot slowly.

“We have to turn end-for-enti,”
Pop said. 'I'hat way we can de-
celerate on the drop into Callisto.
But, of course, you know all
about that, Mr. Kane.”

“1 told you I’m no space pig,”
Kane said brusquely. “I can
handle a landing and maybe a
takeoff, but the rest of it I leave
for the boatmen. Like you. Pop.”

Pop spun the flywheel in si-
lence, listening to the soft whir.
Presently, he let the wheel slow
and then stop. He straightened
and looked up at Kane. The
blaster muzzle was six inches from
his belly. He swallowed against
the dryness in his throat.

‘‘You . . . you’re going to kill
me,” Pop said. It wasn’t a ques-
tion. Kane smiled, showing while
teeth.

“I ... I know you are,” Pop
said unsteadily. ” But first, I want
to say something to you.”

“Talk, old timer,” Kane said.
“But not too much.”

‘‘That boy — that boy you
killed in Marsport. He was my
son,” Pop said.

Kane’s face did not change ex-
pression. ‘‘Okay. So what?”

Pop’s lips twitched. “I just
wanted to hear you say It.” He
looked at the impassive face of
the killer. “You made a mistake,
Mr. Kane. You shouldn’t have
done that to my boy.”

“ Is that all?”

Pop nodded slowly. “1 guess
that’s all.”

Kane grinned. “Afraid, old
man?”

‘‘I’m a space pig,” Pof) said.
“Space takes care of its own.”

“You’re in a bad way, old
timer,” Kane said, “and you
haven't much sense. I'm doing
you a favor.”

Pop lifted his hands in an in-
stinctive gesture of futile protec-
tion as the blaster erupted flame.

I'here was a smell In the control
room like burnt meat as Kane
bolstered his weapon and turned
the old man over with a foot.
Pop was a blackened mass. Kane
dragged him to the valve and jet-
tisoned the l)ody into space.

Alone among the stars, The
Luck moved across the velvet
night. The steady beat of flame
from her tvibes was a tiny spark of
man-made vengeance on the face
of the deeps.

From her turnover point, she
drove outward toward the spin-
ning Jovian moons. For a short
while she could be seen from the
EMV Observatory on Callisto,
but very soon she faded into the
outer darkness.

Much later, the Observatory at
Land’s End on Triton watched
her heading past the gibbous mass
of Pluto — out into the inter-
stellar fastnesses.

The thrumming of the jets was
{Continued on page 162)

TURNOVER POINT

Illustrator: Charles Berger

BELLY LAUGH

By IVAR JORGENSEN

You hear a lot of talk these days about secret weapons. If it's not
a new wrinkle in nuclear fission, it's a gun to shoot around corners
and down winding staircases. Or maybe a nice new strain of bacteria
guaranteed to give you radio-active dandruff. Our own suggestion is
to pipe a few of our felevisJon commercials into Russia and bore the
enemy to death.

Well, it seems that Ivar Jorgensen has kit on the ultimate engine
of destruction: a weapon designed to exploit man's greatest weakness.
The blueprint can be found in the next few pages; and as the soldier
in the story says, our only hope is to keep a sense of humorl

Me? I’m looking for mj'- outfit.

Got cut off in that Holland
'I'unnel attack. Mind if I sit down
with you guys a while? Thanks.
Coffee? Damn ! This is heaven.
Ain’t seen a cup of coffee in a year.

What? You siiid it! This sure is
a hell of a war. Tough on a guy's
feet. Yeah, that’s right. Holland

Tunnel skirmish. Where the Rusk-
ies used that new gun. Uhuh. God !
It was awful. Guys popping off all
around a guy and him not know-
ing why. No sense to it. No noise.
No wound. Just popping off.

That's the trouble with this
war. It won't settle down to a rou-
tine. Always something new. What

the hell chance has a guy got to
figure things out? And I tell j’ou
them Ruskies are coming up with
new weapons just as fast as we are.
Enough to make your hair stand
on end.

Sugar? Christ, yes! Ain’t seen
sugar for a year. You see, it’s like
this: we were bottled up in the pits
around the Tunnel for seven damn
days. It was like nothiiig you ever
saw before. Oops — sorry. Didn’t
mean to splash you. I was laugh-
ing about something that hap-
pened there — to a guy. Maybe
you guys would get a kick out of
it. After all, we got to keep our
sense of humor.

■ You see, there was me and a
Kentucky kid named Stillwell in
this j)it — a pretty big pit with
lots of room — and we were all
alone. This Stillwell was a nice kid
— green and lonesome and it’s
pretty sad, really, but there’s a
yak in it. and — as I say — we got
to keep a sense of humor.

Well, this Stillwell a rcall\-
green kid — is unhappy and just
plain . drooling for his gal back
liome. He talks about his mother,
of course, and his old man, but it’s
the girl that’s really on his mind as
you guys can plainly understand.

He’s seeing her every place —
like spots In front of his eyes — ■
nice spots doing things to him,
when this Ruskie babe shows up.

My gun came up without any
orders from me just as she poked
her puss over the edge of the pit,

and — huh? Oh, thank you kindly.
It sure tastes good but 1 don’t
want to short you guys. Thank
you kindly.

Well, as T was saying, thi.s Ruskie
babe pokes her nose over the edge
of the pit and Stillwell dives and
knocks down my gun. He says,
“You son-of-a-bitch ! ’’ Just like
that. Wild and desperate, like
you’d say to a guy if the guy was
just kicking over the last jug of
water on a desert island.

It would have been long enough
for her to kill us if I hadn’t had
good reflexes. Even then, all 1 had
time to do was knock the pistol
out of her hand and drag her into
the pit.

With her play bollixed, she was
confused and bewildered. She ain’t
a fighter, and she sits back against
the wall staring at us dead pan
with big expressionless eyes. She’s
a plenty pretty babe and I could
see exactly what had haiDpened as
far as Stillwell was concerned. His
spots had come to life in very ade-
quate form so to speak.

Stillw'ell goes over and sits down
besitle her and I’m very much on
the alert, because 1 know where
his courage comes from. But I de-
cide it’s all right, because I see the
babe is not belligerent, just con-
fused kind of. And friendly.

And willing. Kind of a whipped-
littlc-dog willing, and man oh man !
She was sure what Stillwell needed.

They kind of went together like

AM.\ZING STORIES

a hand and a glove — natural-like.
And it followed — pretty natural
— that when Stillwell got up and
led her around a wing of the pit,
out of sight, she went willing —
like that same little dog.

Uhuh. No, you guys. Two’s
enough. I wouldn’t rob you. Well,
okay, and thanks kindly.

Well, there I was, all alone, but
happy for Stillwell, cause I know
it’s what the kid needs, and in
spots like that what difference
does it make? Yank — Ruskic —
Mongolian — as long as she's will-
ing.

Then, you guys, Stillwell comes
back out — wall-eyed — real wall-
eyed— like being hit but not
knocked out and still walking. I
know what it is — some kind of
shock. I get up and walk over and
take a look at the babe where he’d
left her — and I bust out laugh-
ing. I told you guys there was a
yak in this. I laughed like a fool —

it was that funny. As much as I
had time to, before Stillwell cracked.
It was enough to crack him — the
little thing that pushes a guy over
the edge.

He lets out a yell and screams,
“For crisake! For crisake! Noth-
ing but a bucket of bolts! Nothing
but a couple of plastic lumps — ”

That was when I hit him. I had
to. He was for the birds, Stillwell
was. An hour later we got relieved
and a couple of medicos carried
him away strapped to a stretcher
— gone like a kite.

They took the robot too, and its
clothes, but they forgot the bras-
siere, so 1 took it and I been carry-
ing it ever since, but I’ll leave it
with you guys if you want — for
the coffee. Might make you think
about home. After all, like the
man says, we got to keep our
.sense of humor.

Well, so long, you guys — and
thanks.

/ai .K about women not Iwiig able to make up their minds. Look at old
Mother Karth, she goes in eight different directions at one time:

(1) She revolves around the sun with a speed of alx)Ut 19 miles a second

(2) She rotates upon her own axis at about 500 yards per second

(3) She partici|)ates in the sun’s forward motion in the direction of Vega,
the stationery star

(4) The gravitational influence of the moon gravitates her

(5) She is part of the solar system's rotary motion upon its axis

(6) She takes part in the solar system’s revolution around a common
center of gravity

(7) She swings from the poles toward the equator

(8) And she has some responsibility’ for the precession of the equinoxes
which is caused by the attraction of the sun and moon on the ring of
heavy matter which forms the equatorial protulicrancc of the Earth.

UKI-LY LAUGH

llluatiator; Turn O'SulUvtut

THERE BE TYGERS

By RAY BRADBURY

If yau are wondering why we're presenting this particular story by
Ray Bradbury, here's the reason. A new one we had counted an just
dtdn t come through after we’d put his name on the cover. It meant
we had to reprint one of his best — or drop him out entirely. More
than likely you haven’t read this one before anyway . . . and take
it from us he has never done better.

We'd rather not tell you anything about it here. Ray’s fiction
al^ysfar more than plot. Much of its charm and value is found
%n the magic of his style — a style which has made his work unique.

You'll never come back.” Hell-
man pared his fingernails
casually. “Something frightening
will happen to you, something vile
and terrible. Remember the other
expeditions. My God, the first
Mars rocket killed off by halluci-
nations, the Weekner-Venus party
bakcxl alive, I hear.” Heilman
gestured to a three-dimensional
map which hung like a dark mo-
bile in the center of his parlor.
Glittering planets floated there
in a black void. “It’s a hobby of
mine,’’ he said. “You see the tiny
rocket ships there, on each tiny
planet? I keep track, just like the
government. When a particular

ry floJt afid Company

rocket fails to return from some
horrible world or other, I sim-
ply — " He twitched his hand del-
icately, wrist-deep, into the silent
depths of the map. “ — toss the
rocket into the waste-basket.”
Something like a silver seed
tinkled from his fingers into the
basket. “And turn off the light
in that one tiny world.” Click. A
planet stopped gleaming in the
small night. “Another world in-
vestigated and found wanting,
another multi-milHon-dollar ex-
pedition down the cosmic drain.
No, iny dear Forester, you’ll
never come back alive. Look. I’ve
numbered this tiny new little
rocket A-1000 for you and your
men. You’re traveling off to
Planet 4 of Star System 70, right?
W'ell, here’s Planet 4; I’ll switch
it on for you. There. And one
year from tonight, when you don’t
show up, I’ll switch it off again
and throw this little rocket of
yours into the incincerator. Good-
i>yc forever, dear friend.”

Heilman smiled knowingly as
he released the tiny nccdle-rockct
at the rim of the dark galaxy.
The rocket flew quietly into space
leaving Heilman, the cynic, far
behind- - - .

“That’s it,” said Forester.

He nodded out the port and the
men looked with him at the beau-
tiful globe of soil and sea and for-
est and cloud that swung up un-
der their rocket. A month had

passed, they had slept most of it
away in the hypnotic machines
and now, like children freslily
wakened for tlieir morning exer-
cises, they waited for their ship
to touch Planet Four in Star
System 70.

“I keep thinking about what
Heilman said.” The man next to
b'orester rubbed his chin. “Will
we come through this alive?”

Forester laughed. “Yes. Be-
cause we’re us. I always feel that
way, don’t you? Bad things al-
ways hapjKm to other people, not
to us," not to me. I’ll live forever.”

“A comforting but hardly logi-
cal thought when one is impaled
on a rhino-carpis.”

“Rhino-carpis?”

"A terrible beast my father
made up when 1 was a boy. He
always said he'd throw me to the
rhino-carpisses if I wasn’t good.”

The men laughed quietly. They
gazed at the planet which rose
softly to touch the ship. The auto-
matic landing units functioned
like the oiled machinery of a
Swiss typewriter.

“Ours is a funny policy when
you think of it," said Kocstlor,
the radiologist. “We send rockets
lo each new world. If the, rockets
fail to return, we never seiul a
second one to check the reason
why. There are so many worlds
we can’t waste time on a hostile
one, fighting futile wars, subduing
natives; problems of logistics and
all that."

AMAZING STORIES

“A very sensible policy,” said
Forester. ‘‘Each rocket represents
two years of time, ten million
dollars, and God knows what in
human lives, the years it took to
educate us all. No use throwing
us out with the bath-water, eh?”

‘‘And yet,” replied Koestler,
“I can’t stop wondering. What
happened to all those rockets on
all those worlds we never went
back to check on a second time?
Oh, we know what happened on
Mars, the men were killetl. We
had to go back there, it was an
operational base. But what of all
those lost expeditions on worlds
we’ll never try again?”

“Simple. The men either
crashed, or were burned by na-
tives, shot, stabbed, or broiled
for supper.”

‘‘Why must we talk this way a
moment before we step out on a
new planet, with God-knows-what
waiting for us?” A third man
moved forward between them.

‘‘Right, Driscoll.” Forester
turned. ‘‘Let’s get into our equip-
ment. Going ashore in five min-
utes.”

The men walked off.

Only Forester remained behind
for a moment at the crystal port
staring out at the green world of
grass and lakes. “Well,” he whis-
pered to himself, “what if Hell-
man was right? ”

Driscoll held a handful of yel-
low flowers out before him. “ Here

are your rhino-carpisses, Koest-
ler!”

Koestler eyed the distant for-
est. ‘‘We’ve only been walking a
few minutes. No telling, they may
have guillotines set up in the
woods, and oil-vats to boil us in.”

The men loosened their guns in
their creaking holsters.

They walked forward through
open fields of clover, coming to
no highway or fence or building.
They walked under a mellow sun
and there was a mellow wind
blowing all about.

‘‘Ho-ho!” said Driscoll, stand-
ing at the top of a little rise.

The others glanced at him.

“I was just thinking. Feel.'*
Driscoll held his arms out loosely.
“Feel how the wind is. Remem-
ber when you were a kid? Remem-
ber how you used to run and how
the wind felt? Like feathers
around your arms. You thought
you could fly. You ran and you
thought any moment you’d fly,
my God, you’d’ve given your
right arm to fly. But you never
quite did.”

The men stood remembering.
There was an aspect to the day
that encouraged such remember-
ing. The smells of pollen and weed
and some distant and delicious
fruit, a smell of new rain drying
Upon a million blades of grass.

Driscoll gave a little run. "Feel
it, by God. The wind. You know,
we never have really flown. For
all our science we have to fit our-

IIERE THERE BE TYGERS

selves into blundering big' planes
and jets'and rockets, tons of junk
and trickery. But what I mean is
the simple thing itself, flying
alone, flying with nothing but
your arms, flying like a bird. The
thing you felt twenty years back.
When you were so high, just to
put your arms out like this.” He
extended his arms. ‘‘And run.”
He began to run ahead of them,
laughing at hiS own idiocy. ‘‘And
fly!” he cried.

He flew.

Time passed on the silent gold
wrist watches of the men standing
below. Five minutes ticked by.
They shielded their eyes from the
sun. They stared up. They seemed
to be watching some high sport,
some shuttlecock in the air, lumi-
nous and changing. They turned
their gaze in six directions. And
from the air came a high sound of
almost unbelievable laughter.

At last, Driscoll flew down.

He landed at their feet, tears
of laughter and disbelief rolling
from his blue eyes. ‘‘Did you see
me! My God, did you see! I flew!
For God’s sake, I flew! Did you
see it?”

They had seen. They had
watched him soaring higher and
higher into a blue sky to dive and
flip about like a boy rollicking on
a blue mattress.

“Let me sit down. Lord, oh
Lord.” He gasped and slapped
his knees, chuckling. He made a

twittering motion of his fingers.
“I’m a sparrow, I’m a robin, I’m
a hawk, damn it! Go on, all of
you! Try it!”

‘‘What happened?” Forester
knelt beside him.

” It’s the wind, that’s what it is,

I didn't do a thing but think I
wanted to fly. I ran, and next
thing I knew the wind picked me up
and there I was in the air. Scared
the hell out of me. But then I
knew I couldn’t fall. The wind
wouldn’t let me.”

‘‘What do you think?” Forester
glanced at the other men. “Shall
we go back to the rocket and get
out of here? ”

“Get out of here?” cried Dris-
coll, sobering, but still amused.
“Why? It’s perfect. You can have
your rockets. I can fly, by God,
better than any jet in the uni-
verse, and to hell with rockets
and planes.”

The men shuffled their feet.
They gazed at the great soft area
of sky waiting to be jumped upon
in coiled-spring abandon; there
was the vast and serene play-
ground, and the wind whistling
over their ears, calling to them.

“It’s all right,” said Driscoll,
“You’re too suspicious.”

“In the interests of science, let’s
exj>eriment,” said Chatterton, the
anthropologist, drily.

Forester examined his arms,
frowning. He put them out on the
warm-cool air. The wind wavered
and trembled the cloth, sighing,

AMAZING STORIES

whispering. There was a kite
sound in the air, a humming as
of strings and paper, a sound of
eternal March.

“How did you do it, Driscoll?”

Driscoll considered. “1 ran. I
put up my arms. And then.” He
hesitated. “ I asked the wind.”

“Oh, come off it!”

“I did. And it flew me, Lord,
like a feather!"

“All right.” Forester waved
the others back. “I’ll take a
chance. If I’m killed, if I fall,
back to the ship, all of you.”

He took a deep breath. “Now,
once more, Driscoll?”

“Run.”

“I feel like an idiot.”

“Run faster. That’s it. Faster!”

He ran.

“Now, put up your arms.”

He put up his arms.

“Now, ask the wind to give you
a sail, go on !”

Forester’s lips trembled.

Everyone shouted and looked
up.

“There he goes,” said Driscoll,
seated on the ground.

It was twilight.

The men sat on the hilltop, ex-
hausted and laughing.

“Well, that’s all of us!”

“Everyone had his turn!”

“God, isn’t it perfect?”

“It's the thing!”

They had flown in duos, trios,
quartettes, in squadrons. They
had flown like orioles or eagles or

sparrows, each according to his
body weight and agility. But they
were all happy.

“That’s it. exactly.” Driscoll
put a hand up to feel the smile on
his face, as if it were a strange
mask. “Now I know what it is.
I’m happy. I haven't been this
happy in a good fifteen years.”

One of the men came running
up, jumping, half-flying, with can-
teens in his arms. "Hey, I found
a creek! Best darned water you
ever drank!”

Forester accepted a canteen.
“ Did you test it?”

“It’s tested and pure.”

The men passed the canteens
from hand to hand, pressing them
to their parched and exhausted
mouths.

Forester splashed some of the
stuff into his palm and sniffed.
“Wine,” he said.

“ It can't be."

“Smell it. Taste it. White
wine,”

The man who had fetched it
gave a hoot. “Right! I followed
the creek up.”

“It can’t be.”

“ No, it’s real. I found the forest
where the creek starts. A big
place with trees so thick you can’t
get in, and a ton of berries on each
tree. The berries fall like snow, all
the time. As soon as some fall,
others grow. And the berries get
caught in a kind of floe there, so
heavy that the ones on the bottom
are crushed out and the fluid is

HERE THERE BE TYGERS

caught in a kind of stone quarry
there. They ferrhent by them-
selves. Maybe there’re yeast
spores in it. Hell, who knows? By
the time it flows down here in a
creek, it's wine."

‘‘French domestic." Driscoll
sipped his.

"Go easy on it,” warned For-
ester.

Tliey passed the canteens twice
more around.

‘‘Well," said Forester at last.
"Time to break this up and build
a camp. Or should we sleep in the
ship tonight? "

"Neither,” said Driscoll. "We
can sleep out here on the ground.
We don’t need a camp or a fire to
keep warm. Feel that air. It's
going to be eighty-six degrees
warm all night long. We’ll sleep
like babes.”

"But out in the open . .

"Wc’ll post a guard, of course.”

Everyone nodded, happily,
drowsily.

"Break out the supper rations.”

"Captain Forester." Chatter-
ton came floating up, sublime and
ridiculous in his new element.
"Supper’s waiting for us yonder.
Have a look."

The men walked half down the
hill and then remembering that
they could fly, flew. They landed
where a small stream jumped into
a bubbling pool of boiling water.
The men stood about the pool
rim waiting. Moments later four

fish, weighing five pounds each,
swam along the cold creek and
fell, glittering and wriggling, down
through the interior of the hot
spring. They floated to the top of
the spring a minute later, cooked.
Chatterton fished them out with
a net.

"What did you say about sup-
per, Captain?”

There were twenty varieties of
fruit for dessert. After supper, the
warriors of the rocket lay stuffed
while their captain philosophized.

"I am still suspicious."

"No, Captain.”

“To quote an old map, one I
saw when 1 was studying medie-
val history, time of Columbus,
the map said, ‘Here there be ty-
gers.’ VVell, where are the tigers,
where are the lions, the meat-eat-
ers, where the cannibals and the
missionary kettles aboil?”

" It was a miracle!" said Koest-
Icr. "There were the trees, green,
but no fruit on them. And I asked
the trees and they grew fruit and
dropped it on the grass.”

"We are all a little drunk."

"Hardly that. It’s simply that
this planet is alive. The soil is a
living flesh. It’s a race unto itself,
and what a race, what a people
it is! The trees have no special
season except the season of our
minds. The season of thinking,
the season of hunger. If we should
go away, there would be a long
winter, but on our return the trees
would summer again and there’d

AMAZING STORIES

be footb And the winfl’s alive. Why
not? It’s molecules and atoms,
isn’t it? So it has a soul, it lives,
it thinks, it can soar us about. Is
that unusual? Not to a truly de-
vout thinker: a rarity itself foclay.
I.ife itself is a damned miracle.
I’ve never gotten over thinking
about it.”

Koestler patted the grass at his
side with tender curiosity. “Why,
I bet you if you asked the grass
to grow and blanket you at night
to keep you warm, it would. Ex-
cept we won't have to do that.
We’ll just ask the wind to blow
summer breezes and it will, all
night.”

Now, softly, a great and gentle
rain began to fall upon the green

world. It was a rain of serenity
and peace. They could hear it
touch a billion times upon the
nearby trees and grass blades.

“The final touch,” said Dris-
coll. “We’ll never have to build
houses here on this planet.”

“Why not?”

“It’s raining, stupid, but you
notice it’s not raining on us. It’s
raining all around, all around, on
every side, but where we are, it
never rains. It rains ahead of us,
it rains after we pass. Even the
rain has a season of the mind, has
a courtesy and a respect for us.
This is a very kind world, gentle-
men.”

“1 don’t believe that about the
rain,” murmured some one. “I
believe the other things, yes, but

HERE THERE BE TYGERS

1 don't believe that.”

'‘I’ll prove it.” Driscoll jumped
up, swaying just a trifle, chuck-
ling, and walked straight out into
the downpour. He stood with his
arms out. The rain did not touch
him. When he returned, he was
dr>'. Kveryone felt of his uniform.

“On the other hand,” he said.
“Watch.” He stripped, off his uni-
form. Probing among his supplies,
he walked out into the storm with
a bar of green soap. He looked up
as if addressing the million drops
of water and said, “Now, I’ll have
some, thank you.”

The rain drenched hhn.

He stood singing a song, lather-
ing his body, having it washed off,
lathering and rewashing himself,
again and again.

The rain was gone. The moon
was rising over the freshened hills.

“There's only one more thing,”
said Koostler.

“Yes,” said everyone.

They looked at the forest and
beyond.

They waited.

“It doesn’t work,” said Dris-
coll. “I’ve been thinking very
hard, but that’s different. I think
we’ll have to go looking.”

“Let’s be logical." Koestler lit
a cigarette. “If you ask for the
wind to fly you and you ask for
the trees to feed you, and you
ask for the rain to bathe you, and
everything is obediently alive,
then, with any sort of logic at all.

one need only ask this world for
the bounty of feminine compan-
ionship.”

“I've thought a long time,”
said Chatterton. “We’re all bach-
elors. The Service won’t take
married men. So here we are. men
who’ve been up and down the
system to the colonized planets
for five or six years, hit every port.
I’m tired of that. I want to settle
down.” He saw the others nod.
“Wouldn’t it be nice to . . . well
. . . get married, and settle here?
Do you realize how simple life
could be? What do we do on
Earth? We work like hell all our
lives just to save enough to buy a
house. We pay taxes. The cities
stink of gasoline and exhaust
fumes. Here, you don’t even need
a house, the weather is perfect all
the time. If it gets monotonous
you can ask for rain and clouds
and changes, but' you don’t }uive
to be uncomfortable.”

“By God, you’re right. Takes
half a man’s income half his life
just to buy a home or car, and feed
his face, on Earth.”

'‘Who needs cars? Who worries
about fueling the wind here, or
checking its transmission and tires
and oil?”

The men laughed.

“But you need houses, for pri-
vacy.”

“Live in the forest.”

“Right. And we won’t have to
work for food, it’s here, wine,
fruits, vegetables, cooked fish.

AMAZING STORIES

I’m tempted.”

“ It's dangerous,” said Forester.
"You get soft. Look at the South
Sea islanders, where did they ever
get? What did they ever do? Life
was so easy for them, they had to
make up a tattoo ritual that was
so terrifying it was the main event
of their lives. Life was so boring,
they had to cook up a trick thing
like hurting themselves on pur-
pose to keep the race on its feet.
That would happen here, too,
to us.”

“I'm not afraid of that,” said
Chatterton. “This is a versatile
planet, Captain. WeTe sitting on
the bald dome of Plato, and the
shaved head of Caesar, combined.
What was it you said awhile back
— ‘Here there be tygers” Well, if
life should ever soften too much,
we need only repeat that phrase
a bit, ‘Here there be tygers. Here
there be tygers.' and listen. . .

Far away, wasn't there the
faintest roar of a giant cat, hidden
in the deep night forest?

The men shivered and turned
to each other, smiling.

“ Don’t worry about this planet.
Captain, it'll take care of itself.”

"There’s only one thing makes
me sad,” said Driscoll.

"What’s that?”

"Suppose there are people here,
suppose their women are beauti-
ful, suppose we meet them, and
everything is agreeable. Then we
go home and tell everyone on

Earth and everyone rushes here
to the Happy Hunting Ground to
ruin it. Lord, they’d tramp hell
out of it, you know they would!”

“Yes,” said everyone, scowling,
thinking of it.

“That’s right.”

“The brow of Plato, remem-
ber,” said Chatterton. “Give this
planet credit for some sense. To a
few men it presents its versatile
and sunny face. To an invasion of
ten million men? What would
they find? A muck-bog, a swamp,
a fog world infested with sixty
trillion mosquitoes, and ten bil-
lion dinosaurs, not worth bother-
ing with.” He slapped the earth
under his feet. “Good old wise
planet!”

Everyone nodded and lay down
to sleep.

“Good night.”

“Did you notice, after you
drank so much of the wine, you
didn’t want any more? Just
enough to make you mildly
happy.”

“A world of moderation.”

“Good night.”

They lay with their eyes open.
They lay listening to something
like a great heart of earth beating
slowly and warmly under their
bodies. One by one they shut their
eyes until only Forester lay awake,
watching the stars. It’s a trifle
warm, he thought.

A cool breeze fanned his head.

I'm thirsty, he thought.

IlCRE THERE BE TYGERS

A drop of rain splashed on his
mouth.

He laughed quietly.

I’m lonely, he thought.

Distantly, he heard voices; soft
high voices.

He turned his eyes in upon a
vision. There was a group of hills
from which flowed a clear river,
and in the shallows of that river,
sending up spray, w’hite and swift
themselves, with flowing hair,
their faces bubbled and shimmer-
ing, were the beautiful women.

They played like children on
the banks. And it came to Forester
to know about them and their life.
They were nomads. They roamed
over the face of this planet as was
their desire. There were no cities
or houses, there were no highways,
there were only forests and hills
and valleys and plains. There
were no machines, only winds to
carry them like white feathers
where they wished. As Forester
asked the questions, some in-
visible answerer chimed the an-
swers. Are they women? They are
women. Where are the men?
There are no men. These women
produce their race, alone. The
men died out on this world fifty
thousand years ago. And where
are these women now? A mile
down from the green forest, a
mile over on the wine creek by
the six white stones, and a third
mile to the large river. There, at
the shallows, are the women, who

will make fine wives, and raise
beautiful children.

Forester opened his eyes. At
tiiat instant a tiny scattering of
rain fell upon the sleeping men, a
gesture, it almost seemed, to
waken them. Their eyes were
open, brightly, and they were
silling up.

“ I had a dream.”

•‘So did I.”

‘‘And me.”

They sat for a long moment.
They looked toward the rocket.
“What about it? What about
Earth?”

They stood up without a word
and began to collect their gear.
Forester walked back to the rocket
and kicked its hull contempla-
tively, slowly. Driscoll came up
behind him. ‘‘Well, Captain?”

‘‘We’ll leave her here.”

‘‘I say dismantle her.”

“Why?”

“So we can never go back. So
no one will ever know what hap-
pened to us. So they’ll never come
and investigate and spoil this
beautiful place.” They waited.
“What do you say?”

“You’re right. We’ll dismantle
the rocket tomorrow. But now.
tonight — ”

“ You afraid, sir?”

“No.”

“You dream the same as 1
did?”

They were back among the men

AMAZING STORIES

now. "Yes. A mile down from the
green forest . .

"... a mile over on the wine
creek. . . recited Chatterton.

". . . by the six white stones,”
said Koestler.

"And a third mile to the large
river,” said all the men, in a
ragged, self-conscious chorus.

Someone tossed down tlieir
gear. "What do I want with Oial?
To heck with it, I won't need it.”

The other men threw down
tlieir equipment, too.

"Shall we walk or fly. Cap-
tain?” asked Driscoll.

"I think we’ll walk,” said For-
ester. "It's such a nice night,
moon out bright, and it’s good to
think about a thing and antici-
pate a long time before. Don't
you agree? ”

"Yes, sir,” said the men.

They began to walk.

"Heilman,” said Forester.

"What, sir?”

“I was just thinking about
Heilman,” said the Captain.
“Back on Earth now, Heilman
the cynic.”

A year from now, he could see
Heilman standing in his pent-
house aparlmenl, drinking a quiet
drink, laughing to his friends.

" Do you see this jilanet labeled
Planet 4 in Star System 70?”
Click, “I turn it off like a light.
Do you see this rocket, this tiny
model no bigger than a seed,
numbered A-1000? See, I toss it
into the waste-basket.” A wave
of the hand. The tinkle of the
tiny rocket in the trash-bin.
"What did I tell you, friends?
They’ll never come back. They’re
dead. It’s a horrid planet. They’re
tortured and broken and dead.
Oh, 1 warned them. Space travel!
We’ll never see them again, poor
idiots!”

Forester increased his stride.
Among his men, he found his
[)lace. They walked down away
from the green forest, talking
quietly, with the silvery rocket
glowing in the moonlight behind
them, and all of the fresh planet
around them, a wine creek flow-
ing for them, baked fish lolling In
the hot-water springs, fruit ripen-
ing in the night trees, and distant
forests and lakes waiting for them
to happen by. They walked off
across the endless green lawns,
beyond the forest, near the six
white stones, to the edge of the
river.

THE first record of a meteorite display was made by Andrew Ellicott on
November I2, 1799. He wrote in his journal : “The whole heaven appeared
as if illuminated with sky rockets, flying in an infinity of directions, and I
was in constant expectation of some of them falling on the vessel. They
continued until put out by the light of the sun after day break.’’

HERE THERE BE TYGERS

Illustrator: Robert Kay

The Last Day

By RICHARD MATHESON

This, we might as well warn you, is what Hollywood calls a downbeat
story. Not that we're especially fond of them ourselves; but every
so often such a yarn will point out a truth too often overlooked.

Also, they are tricky to write. Too much accent on pure despair
and the reader walks out long before the end. There must be in the
people of such a story an undistorted reflection of us all: a common
denominator anyone can recognize within himself.

Waxing philosophical is like waxing a floor; it is powerful easy
to fall on your face while trying it. But we have an abiding faith
in Man's ability to rise to greatness in the shadow of destruction.
Evide7illy Dick Matheson feels much the same way, for his handling
of character in The Last Day is masterful in its sympathetic por-
trayal of the best and the'worst in all of us.

He woke up and the first thing he thought was:
the last night is gone.

He had slept through half of it.

He lay there on the floor and looked up at the celling.
The walls still glowed reddish from the outside light.
There was no sound in the living room but that of
snoring.

He looked around. There were bodies sprawled all
over the room. On the couch, slumped on chairs, curled
up on the floor.

He raised up on one elbow and winced at the shoot-
ing pains in his head. He closed his eyes and held them

tightly shut for a moment. Then
he opened them again. He ran his
tongue over the inside of his dry
mouth. There was stilt a stale
taste of liquor and food in his
mouth.

He rested on his elbow as he
looked around the room again,
his mind slowly registering the
scene.

Nancy and Bill lying in each
other’s arms, both naked. Nor-
man curled up in an arm chair, his
thin face taut as he slept. Mort
and Mel lying on the floor, cov-
ered with dirty throw rugs. Both
snoring. Others on the floor.

Outside the red glow.

He looked at the window and
his throat moved. He blinked. He
looked down over his long body.
He swallowed again.

Tm alive, he thought, and it’s
all true.

He rubbed his eyes. He took a
deep breath of the dead air in the
apartment.

He knocked over a glass as he
struggled to his feet. The liquor
and soda sloshed over the rug and
soaked into the dark blue weave.

He looked around at the other
glasses, broken, kicked over,
hurled against the wall. He looked
at the bottles all over, all empty.

He stood staring around the
room. He looked at the record
player overturned, the albums all
strewn around, jagged pieces of
records in crazy patterns on the
rug.

He remembered.

It was Mort who had started
it the night before. Mort who had
suddenly rushed to the playing
record machine and shouted
drunkenly, “What the hell is
music any more! Just a lot of
noise! ’’

And he had driven the point of
his shoe against the front of the
record player and knocked it
against the wall. lie had lurched
over and down on his knees. He
had struggled up with the player
in his beefy arms and heaved the
entire thing over on its back and
kicked it again.

“The hell with music!” Mort
had yelled. “I hate the crap
anyway!”

Then he’d started to drag rec-
ords out of their albums and their
envelope-^ and snap them over his
kneecap.

“Come on!” he’d yelled to
everybody. “Come on!”

And it had caught on. The way
all crazy ideas had caught on in
those last few days.

Mel had jumped up from mak-
ing love to a girl. He had flung
records out the windows, scaling
them far across the street. And
Charlie had put aside his gun for
a moment to stand at the windows
too and try to hit people in the
street with the records.

Richard had watched the dark
saucers bounce and shatter on the
sidewalks below. He’d even thrown
one himself. Then he’d just turned

AMAZING STORIES

away and let the others rage. He’d
taken Mel’s girl into the bedroom
and for a few moments they forgot
what was happening to their
world.

He thought about that as lie
stood waveringly in the reddish
light of the room

He closed his eyes a moment.

Then he looked at Nancy and
remembered taking her too some-
time in the jumble of wild hours
that had been yesterday and last
night.

She looked vile now, he thought.
She’d always been an animal. Be-
fore, though, she’d had to veil it.
Now, in the final twilight of
everything, she could revel in the
only thing she’d ever really cared
about.

He wondered if there were any
people left in the world with real
dignity. The kind that was still
there when it no longer was
necessary to impress people with ii.

He stepped over the body of a
sleeping girl. She had on only a
slip. He looked down at her
tangled hair, at her smeared red
lips, at the tight, unhappy frown
printed on her face.

He glanced into the bedroom as
he passed it. There were three
girls and two men in the bed.

He found the body in the bath-
room .

It was thrown carelessly in the
tub and tlie shower curtain torn
down to cover it. Only the legs

showed, dangling ridiculously over
the front rim of the tub.

He drew back the curtain and
looked at the blood-soaked shirt,
at the white, still face.

Charlie.

He shook his head, then turned
away and washed his face and
hands at the sink. It didn’t mat-
ter. Nothing mattered. As a mat-
ter of fact, Charlie was one of the
lucky ones now. A member of the
legion who had put their heads
into ovens, or cut their wrists or
taken pills or done away wdth
themselves in the accepted fash-
ions of suicide.

As he looked at his tired face in
the mirror he thought of cutting
his wrists. But he knew he
couldn't. Because it took more
than just despair to incite self-
destruction.

He took a drink of water.
Lucky, he thought, there’s still
water running. He didn't suppose
there was a sou! left to run the
water system. Or the electric sys-
tem or the gas system or the tele-
phone system or any system for
that matter.

What fool would work on the
last day of the world?

Spencer was in the kitchen
when Richard went in.

He was sitting In his shorts at
the table looking at his hands. On
the stove some eggs were frying.
The gas must still be working
then too, Richard thought.

THE LAST DAY

“Hello,” he said to Spencer.

Spencer grunted without look-
ing up. He stared at his hands.
Richard let it go. He turned the
gas down a little. He took bread
out of the cupboard and put it
in the electric toaster. But the
toaster didn’t work. He shrugged
and forgot about it.

“What time is It?” Spencer was
looking at him with the question.

Richard looked at his watch.
“It stopped,” he said.

They looked at each other.

“Oh,” Spencer said. Then he
asked, “What day is it?”

Richard thought. “Sunday, I
think,” he said.

“I wonder if people are at
church,” Spencer said.

“Who cares?”

Richard opened the refriger-
ator.

“There aren’t any more eggs,”
Spencer said.

Richard shut the door. “No
more eggs,” he said dully, “No
more chickens. No more any-
thing.”

He leaned against the wall with
a shuddering breath and looked
out the window at the red sky.

Mary, he thought. Mary, who
I should have married. Who I let
go. He wondered where she was.
He wondered if she were thinking
about him at all.

Norman came trudging in,
groggy with sleep and hangover.
His mouth hung open. He looked
da2ed.

“Morning,” he slurred.

“Good morning, merry 'Sun-
shine,” Richard said, without
mirth.

Norman looked at him blankly.
Then he went over to the sink and
washed out his mouth. He spit the
water down the drain.

“Charlie’s dead,” he said.

“I know,” Richard said.

“Oh, When did it happen?"

“Last night,” Richard told him.
“You were unconscious. You re-
member how he kept saying he
was going to shoot us all? Put us
out of our misery?”

“Yeah,” Norman said. “ He put
the muzzle against my head. He
said feel how cool it is.”

“Well, he got in a fight with
Mort,” Richard said. “The gun
went off.” He shrugged. “That
was it.”

They looked at each other with-
out expression.

Then Norman turned his head
and looked out the window. “It’s
still up there,” he muttered.

They looked up at the great
flaming ball in the sky that crowded
out the sun, the moon, the stars.

Norman turned away, his throat
moving. His lips trembled and he
clamped them together. “Jesus,”
he said. “It’s today."

He looked up at the sky again.
"Today,” he repeated. "Every-
thing."

“Everything,” said Richard.

Spencer got up and turned off
the gas. He looked down at the

AMAZING STOKIES

eggs for a moment. Then he said,
“What the hell did I fry these
for? ”

He dumped them into the sink
and they slid greasily over the
white surface. The yolks burst and
spurted smoking, yellow fluid over
the enamel.

Spencer bit his lips. His face
grew hard. “I’m taking her again,’’
he said suddenly.

He pushed past Richard and
dropped his shorts ofif as he turned
the corner into the hallway.

“There goes Spencer,’’ Richard
said.

Norman sat down at the table.
Richard stayed at the wall.

In the living room they heard
Nancy suddenly call out at the
top of her strident voice: “Hey,
wake up, everybody! Watch me
do it! Watch me, everybody,
watch me!"

Norman looked at the kitchen
doorway for a moment/ Then
something gave inside of him and
he slumped his head forward on
his arms on the table. His thin
shoulders shook.

“ I did it too,” he said brokenly.
“I did it too. Oh God, what did
I come here for?’’

“Sex,” Richard said. “Like all
the rest of us. You thought you
could end your life in carnal,
drunken bliss.”

Norman’s voice was muffled.
“ I can’t die like that,” he sobbed.
“I can’t.”

“A couple of billion people arc
doing it,” Richard said. “When
the sun hits us, they'll still be at
it. What a sight.”

The thought of a world’s people
indulging themselves in one last
orgy of animalism made him shud-
der. He closed his eyes and pressed
his forehead against the wall and
tried to forget.

But the wall wa« warm.

Norman looked up from the
table. “Let’s go home,” he said.

Richard looked at him.
“Home?” he said.

“To our parents. My mother
and father. Your mother.”

Richard shook his head. “I
don't want to,” he said.

“ Rut I can't go alone.”

“Why?”

"Because ... I can’t. You
know how the streets arc full of
guys just killing everybody they
meet.”

Richard shrugged.

“Why won’t you?” Norman
asked.

“ I don’t want to see her.”

“Your mother?"

“Yes.”

“You’re crazy,” Norman said.
“Who else is there to . . .”

“No.”

He thought of his mother at
home waiting for him. Waiting for
him on the last day. And it made
him ill lu think of delaying, of
maybe never seeing her again.

But he kept thinking: how can
1 go home and have her try to

TflE LAST DAY

make me pray? Try to make me
read from the Bible, spend these
last hours in a muddle of religious
absorption?

He said it again for himself.
“TV’o.”

Norman looked lost- His chest
shook with a swallowed sob. “I
want to sec my mother,” he said.

“Go ahead,’’ Richard said
casually.

But his insides were twisting
themselves into knots. To never
see her again. Or his sister and her
husband and her daughter.

Never to see any of them again.

He sighed. It was no use fight-
ing it. In spite of everything,
Norman was right. Who else was
there in the world to turn to? In
a wide world about to be burned,
was there any other person who
loved him above all others?

“Oh ... all right,” lie said.
“Come on. Anything to get out
of this place.”

The apartment house hall
smelled of vomit. They found the
janitor dead drunk on the stairs.
They found a dog in the foyer
with its head kicked in.

They stopped as they came out
the entrance of the building.

Instinctively, they looked up.

•At the red sky, like molten slag.
At the fiery wisps that fell like
hot rain drops through the atmos-
phere. At the gigantic ball of flame
that kept coming closer and closer,
that blotted out the universe.

They lowered their watering
eyes. It hurt to look. They started
walking along the street. It was
very warm.

“December,” Richard said.
“It’s like the tropics.”

As they walked along in silence
he thought of the tropics, of the
jxiles, of all the world’s countries
he would never see. Of all the
things he would never do.

Like hold Mary in his arms and
tell her, as the world was ending,
that he loved her very much an{i
was not afraid.

"Never," he said, feeling himself
go rigid with frustration.

“What? ” Norman said.

“Nothing. Nothing.”

As they walked Richard felt
something heavy in his jacket
pocket. It bumped against his side.
He reached in and drew out the
object.

“What's that? ’’Norman asked.

“Charlie’s gun,” Richard said.
“ 1 took it last night so noho<Iy else
would get hurt.”

His laughter was harsh. “So
nobody else would get hurt,” he
said bitterly. “Jesus, I ought to
be on the stage.”

He was about to throw it away
when he changed his mind. He
slid it back into his pocket.

“ I may need it," he said.

Norman wasn’t listening.
“Thank God nobody stole my
car. Oh — ! ”

Somebody had thrown a rock
through the windshield.

AMAZING STORIES

"What’s the difference?” Rich-
ard said.

"I . . . none, I suppose.”

They got into the front seat
and brushed the glass off the
cushion. It was stuffy in the car.
Richard pulled off his jacket and
threw it out. lie put the gun in
his side pants piockct.

As Norman drove downtown
they passed people in the street.

Some were running around
wildly, as if they were searching
for something. Others were fight-
ing. Strewn all over the sidewalks
were bodies of people who had
leaped from windows and been
struck down by speeding cars.
Buildings were on fire, windows
shattered from the explosions of
unlit gas jets.

There were people looting stores.

" What’sthe matter vfith them?”
Norman asked miserably. " Is that
how they want to spend tfheir last
day?”

“Maybe that’s how they sp>ent
their whole life,” Richard an-
swered.

He leaned against the door and
gazed at the people they passed.
Some of them wav6d at him. Some
cursed and spat. A few threw
things at the speeding car.

" People die tlie way they lived,”
he said. "Some good, some bad.”

"Look out!" Norman rrtecl out
as a car came careening down the
street on the wrong side. Men and
women hung out of tlie window

shouting and singing and waving
bottles.

Norman twisted the wheel vio-
lently and they missed the car by
inches.

"Are they crazy?" he said.

Richard looked out through the
back window. He saw the car skid,
saw it get out of control and go
crashing into a store front and
turn over on its side, the wheels
spinning crazily.

He turned back without speak-
ing. Norman kept looking ahead
grimly, his hands on the wheel,
white and tense.

Another intersection.

A car came speeding across their
path. Norman jammed on the
brakes with a gasp. They crashed
against the dashboard, getting
their breath knocked out.

Then, before Norman could get
the car started again, a gang of
teen-age boys with knives and
clubs came dashing into the inter-
section. They’d been chasing the
other car. Now they changed
direction and flung themselves at
the car that held Norman and
Richard.

Norman threw the car into first
and gunned across the street.

A boy jumped on the back of
the car. Another tried for the
running board, missed and went
spinning over the street. Another
jumped on the running board and
grabbed the door Iiaiidle. He
slashed at Richard with a knife.

THE L.\ST DAY

“Gonna kill ya bastids! ’’ yelled
the boy. “ Sonsabitches ! ”

He slashed again and tore open
the back of the seat as Richard
jerked his shoulder to the side.

“Get out of here!” Norman
screamed, trying to watch the boy
and the street ahead at the same
time.

The boy tried to open the door
as the car wove wildly down
Broadway. He slashed again but
the car’s motion made him miss.

“I’ll get ya!” he screamed in a
fury of brainless hate.

Richard tried to open the door
and knock the boy off, but he
couldn’t. The boy’s twisted white
face thrust in through the window.
He raised his knife.

Richard had the gun now. He
shot the boy in the face.

The boy flung back from the car
with a dying howl and landed like
a sack of rocks. He bounced once,
his left leg kicked and then he lay
still .

Richard twisted around.

The boy on the back was still
hanging on, his crazed face pressed
against the back window. Richard
saw hi.s mouth moving as the boy
cursed.

“Shake him off!” he said.

Norman headed for the side-
walk, then suddenly veered back
into the street. The boy hung on.
Norman did it again. The boy still
clung to the back.

Then on the third time he lost
his grip and went off. He tried to

run along the street but his mo-
mentum was too great and he
went leaping over the curb and
crashing into a plate glass win-
dow, arms stuck up in front of
him to ward off the blow.

They sat in the car, breathing
heavily. They didn't talk for a
long while. Richard flung the gun
out the window and watched it
clatter on the concrete and bounce
off a hydrant. Norman started to
say something about it, then
stopped.

The car turned into Fifth Ave-
nue and started downtown at
sixty miles an hour. There weren’t
many cars.

They passed churches. People
were packed inside them. They
overflowed out onto the steps.

“Poor fools,” Richard mut-
tered, his hands still shaking.

Norman Look a deep breath.
“I wish I was a poor fool,” he
said. "A poor fool who could be-
lieve in something.”

“Maybe,” Richard said. Then
he added, “I’d rather spend the
last day believing what I think is
true.”

“The last day,” Norman said.
“I . . He shook his head. “I
can’t believe it,” he said. “I read
the papers. I see that . . . that
thing up there, i know it’s going
to happen. But God! The end?"

He looked at Richard for a split
second. “Nothing afterwand?”

Richard said, “1 don’t know.”

At 14th Street Norman drove

100

AMAZING STORIES

to the East side, then sped across
the Manhattan Bridge. He didn’t
stop for anything, driving around
bodies and wrecked cars. Once he
drove over a body and Richard
saw his face twitch as the wheel
rolled over the dead man’s leg.

“They're all lucky,” Richard
said. “Luckier than we are.”

They stopped in front of Nor-
man's house in Brooklyn, Some
kids were playing ball in the street.
They didn’t seem to realize what
was happening. Their shouts
sounded very loud in the silent
street. Richard wondered if their
parents knew where the children
were. Or cared.

Norman was looking at him.
“Well . . .?” he started to say.

Richard felt his stomach mus-
cles tightening. He couldn’t an-
swer.

“Would you . . . like to come
in for a minute?” Norman asked.

Richard shook his head. “No,”
he .said. “ I better get home. T''. . .
should see her. My mother, I
mean.”

“Oh.” Nonnan nodded. Then
he straightened up. He forced a
momentary calm over himself.
“For what it’s worth, Dick,” he
said, “I consider you my best
friend and . . .”

He faltered. He reached out and
gripped Richard’s hand. Then he
pushed out of the car, leaving the
keys in the ignition.

“So long," he said hurriedly.

Richard watched his friend run

around the car and move for the
apartment house. When he had
almost reached the door, Richard
called out: “Norm!”

Norman stopped and turned.
The two of them looked at each
other. All the years they had
known each other seemed to
flicker between them.

Then Richard managed to smile.
He touched his forehead in a last
salute.

“So long, Norm,” he said.

Norman didn’t smile. He pushed
through the door and was gone.

Richard looked at the door for
a long time. He started the motor.
Then he turned it off again think-
ing that Norman’s parents might
not be home.

After a while he started it again
and began the trip home.

As he drove he kept thinking.

The closer he got to the end, the
less he wanted to face it. He
wanted to end It now. Before the
hysterics started.

Sleeping pills, he decided. It was
the best way. He had some at
home. He hoped there were enough
left. There might not be any left
in the corner drug store. There’d
been a rush for sleeping pills
during those last few days. Entire
families took them together.

He reached the house without
event. Overhead the sky was an
incandescent crimson. He felt the
heat on his face like waves from a
distant oven. He breathed in the

THE LAST DAY

101

heated air, his lungs cringing.

He unlocked the front door and
walketl in slowly.

ril probably find her in the
front room, he thought. Sur-
rounded by her books, praying,
exhorting invisible powers to suc-
cor her us the world prepared to
fry itself.

She wasn’t in the front room.

He searched the house. And, as
he did, his heart began to beat
quickly, and when he knew she
really wasn’t there he felt a great
hollow feeling in his stomach. He
knew that his talk about not
wanting to see her had been just
talk. lie loved her. And she was
the only one left now.

He searched for a note in her
room, in his, in the living room.

“ Mom,” he said. ” Mom, where
are you? ”

He found the note in the
kitchen. He picked it up from the
table:

Richard darling,

I'm at your sister's
house. Please came there.

Don't make me spend
the last day without you.

Don't make me leave this
worldwitkout seeing your
dear face again. Please.

The last day.

Tliere it was in black and wliite.
And, of all people, it had been his
mother to write down the words.
She who had always been so
skeptical of his taste for material
science. Now admitting the reali-

ty of science’s last prediction.

Because she couldn't doubt any
more. Because the sky was filled
with flaming evidence and no one
could doubt any more.

The whole world going. The
staggering detail of evolutions and
revolutions, of strifes and clashes,
of endless continuities of centuries
streaming back into the clouded
past, of rocks and trees and ani-
mals and men. All to pass. In a
flash, In a moment. The pride, the
vanity of man's world incinerated
by a freak of astronomical dis-
order.

What jxjint was there to all of
it, then? None, none at all. Be-
cause it was all ending.

He got sleeping pills from the
medicine cabinet and left. He
drove to his sister's house thinking
about his mother as he passed
through the streets littered with
everything from empty bottles to
dead people.

If only he didn’t dread the
thought of arguing with his
mother on this last day. Of disput-
ing with her about her God and
her conviction.

He made up his mind not to
argue. He’d force himself to make
their last day a peaceful one. He
would accept her simple devotion
and not hack at her faith any
more.

The front door was locked at
Grace's house. He rang the bell
and, after a moment, heard hur-
ried steps inside.

102

AMAZING STORIES

lie heard Ray shout inside,
“Don’t open it, Mom! It may be
that gang again I ’’

“It’s Richard, I know it is!”
his mother called back.

Then the door was open and she
was embracing him and crying
happily.

He didn’t speak at first. Finally
he said softly, “Hello, Mom.”

His niece Doris played all after-
noon in the front room while
Grace and Ray sat motionless in
the living room looking at her.

If I were with Mary, Richard
kept thinking. If only we were
together today. Then he thought
that they might have had chil-
dren. And he would have had to
sit like Grace and know that the
few years his child had lived
would be its only years.

The sky grew brighter as eve-
ning approached. It flowed with
violent crimson currents. Doris
stood quietly at the window 'and
looked at it. She hadn’t laughed
all day or cried. And Richard
thought to himself, she knows.

And thought too that at any
moment his mother would ask
them all to pray together. To sit
and read the Bible and hope for
divine charity.

But she didn’t say anything.
She smiled. She made supper.
Richard stood with her in the
kitchen as she made supper.

“1 may not wait,” he told her.
“I . . . may take sleeping pills.”

“Are you afraid, son?” she
asked.

“Everybody is afraid,” he said.

She shook her head. “Not
everybody,” she said.

Now, he thought, it’s coming.
That smug look, the opening line.

She gave him a dish with the
vegetable and they all sat down
to eat.

During supper none of them
spoke except to ask for food.
Doris never spoke once. Richard
sat looking at her from across the
table.

lie thought about the night
before. The crazy drinking, the
fighting, the carnal abuses. He
thought of Charlie dead in the
bathtub. Of the apartment in
Manhattan. Of Spencer driving
himself into a frenzy of lust as the
climax to his life. Of the boy lying
dead in the New York gutter with
a bullet in his brain.

They all seemed very far away.
He could almost believe it had all
never happened. Could almost
believe that this was just another
evening meal with his family.

Except for the cherry glow that
filled the sky and flooded in
through the windows like an aura
from some fantastic fireplace.

Near the end of the meal Grace
went and got a box. She sat down
at the table with it and opened it.
She took out white pills. Doris
looked at her, her large eyes
searching.

THE LAST DAY

103

“This is dessert,” Grace told
her. “We’re all going to have
white candy for dessert.”

“ Isitixjppcrmint?” Dorisasked
quietK'.

“Yes.” Grace said. “It’s pep-
permint.”

Richard felt his scalp crawling
as Grace pul pills in front of
Doris. In front of Ray.

“We haven’t enough for all of
us,” she said to Richard.

“1 have my own,” he siiid.

“Have >'OU enough for Mom?”
she asked.

“ 1 won’t need any,” her mother
said.

In his tenseness Richard almost
shouted at her. Shouted stop being
so damned noble! But he held
himself. He stared in fascinated
horror at Doris holding the pills in
her small hatul.

“This isn’t peppermint,” she
said. “Momma, this isn’t — ”

“ I'e^ it is." Grace took a deep
breath. “Rat it, darling.”

Doris put one in her mouth.
She made a face. Then she spit it
into her i)alm. “It isn’t pepper-
mint.” she said, upset.

Grace threw up her hand and
dug her teeth in the white knuckles.
Her cN’cs moved frantically to
Ray.

“ Eat it, Doris,” Rat’ said. “Eat
it, it’s good.”

Doris started to cry. “No, 1
don’t like it.”

" Eot it!"

Ray turned away suddenly, ills

bod>' shaking. Richard tried to
think of .some way to make lier
eat the pills, but he couldn’t.

Then his mother s{X)ke. “Wc'll
play a game, Doris,” she said.
“We’ll sec if you can swallow all
the candy before I count ten. If
you do, I’ll give >'Ou a dollar.”

Doris sniffed. “A dollar?” she
said.

Richard’s mother nodded.
“One,” she said.

Doris didn't move.

“Two,” saitl Richard’s mother.
“A dollar . . .”

Doris brushed aside a tear.
“A . . . whole dollar? ”

“Yes, darling. 'Ihrce. lour,
luirrt’ up.”

Doris reache<l for the pills.

“Five . . . six . . . seven . .

Grace ha(l her eyes shut tightly.
Her cheel<s were white.

“Nine . . . ten ...”

Richard’s mother smiled, but
her lijis trembled and there was a
glistening in her eyes. “There,”
she said cheerfully. “You’ve won
the game.”

Grace suddenly put pills into
her mouth and swallowed them
in fast succession. She looked at
Ra>'. He reached out one trem-
bling hand an<l swallowed his pills.
Richard put his hand in his pocket
for his pills but took it out again.
He didn’t want his mother to
watch him take them.

Doris got sleepy almost imme-
diately. She yawned and couldn’t

104

keep her eyes open. Ray picked
her up and she rested against
his shoulder, her small arms around
his neck. Grace got up and the
three of them went back into the
bedroom.

Richard sat there while his
mother went back and said good-
bye to them. He sat staring at the
white tablecloth, at the remains of
food.

When his mother came back she
smiled at him. “Help me with the
dishes,’’ she said.

“The . . .?’’ he started. Then

he stopped. What difference did it
make what they did?

He stood with her in the red-lit
kitchen feeling a sense of sharp
unreality as he dried the dishes
they would never use again and
put them in the closet that would
be no more In a matter of hours.

He kept thinking about Ray
cffid Grace in the bedroom. Finally
he left the kitchen without a word
and went back. He opened the
door and looked in. He looked at
the three of them for a long time.
Then he shut the door again and

"Lathrop, I’ll have to ask you to stick with the rest of the party.”

105

walked slowly back to the kitchen.
He stared at his mother.

“They’re . .

“All right,” his mother said.

“Why didn't you say anything
to them?” he asked her. “How
come you let them do it without
saying anything? ”

“ Richard,” she said, “everyone
has to make his own way on this
day. No one can tell others what
to do. Doris was their child.”

“And I'm yours. , .

“You’re not a child any longer,”
she said.

He finished up the dishes, his
fingers numb and shaking. “ Mom,
about last night . . .“he started.

“ I don’t care about it.”

"But . . .”

“It doesn’t matter, “ she said.
“This part is ending.”

Now, he thought, almost with
pain. This part. Now she would
talk about afterlife and heaven
and reward for the just and
eternal penitence for the sinning.

She said, “Let's go out and sit
on the porch.”

He didn't understand. lie
walked through the quiet house
with her. He sat next to her on
the porch steps and thought: I’ll
rlever see Grace again. Or Doris.
Or Norman or Spencer or Mary.

He couldn’t take it all in. It
was too much. All he could do was
sit there woodenly and look at the
red sky and the huge sun about to
swallow them. He couldn’t even
feel nervous any mort'. Fears were

blunted by endless repetition.

“Mom,” he said after a while,
“why . . . why haven’t you spo-
ken about religion to me? I know
you must want to.”

She looked at him and her face
was very gentle in the red glow.
“1 don’t have to, darling,” she
said. “I know we’ll be together
when this is over. You don’t have
to lx.*lieve it. I’ll believe for both
of us.”

.And that was all. Me looked at
her, wordless before her confidence.

“ If you want to take those pills
now,” she said, “it's all right.
You can go to sleep in my l.ap.”

He felt himself tremble. “You
wouldn't mind?”

“ I want you to do what you
think is best.”

He didn’t know what to do until
he thought of her sitting there
alone when the world ended.

“I’ll stay with you,” he said.

She smiled. “ If you change your
mind,” she said, “you can tell
me.”

They were quiet for a while.
Then she said, “It is pretty.”

''Pretty?" he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “God closes
a bright curtain on our play.”

He didn't know. But he put his
arm around her shoulders and
she leaned against him. And he
did know one thing.

'I'hey sat there in the evening
of the last day. And, though there
was no actual point to it, they
loved each other.

106

THE INVADERS

By MURRAY LEINSTER

II started in Greece on the day after tomorrow. Before
the last act raced to a close, Coburn was buried to his
ears in assorted adventures, including a revolution and
an invasion from outer space!

We're not given to throwing around, the word ''epic”
lightly, but here is one! Swashbuckling action, a great
many vivid characters, and a weird mystery — all spun
for you by one of the master story-tellers of our time.

ONi a certain day — it may be in
the history books eventually
— Coburn was in the village of
Ardea, north of Salonika in the
most rugged part of Greece. He
was making a survey for purposes
which later on turned out not to

matter much. The village of Ardea
was small, it was very early in the
morning, and he was trying to get
his car started when he heard the
yell.

It was a shrill yell, and it trav-
eled fast. Coburn jerked his head

TriE INVADERS

107

upright from the hood of the car.
A whiskered villager with flapping
trousers came pounding up the
single street. His eyes were panic-
stricken and his mouth was wide.
He emitted the yell in a long, sus-
tained note. Other villagers
popped into view like ants from a
disturbed ant-hill. 5>ome instantly
ran back into their houses. Others
began to run toward the outskirts
of the village, toward the south.

Coburn, watching blankly,
found himself astonished at the
number of people the village con-
tained. He hadn’t dreamed it was
so populous. All were in instant
frenzied flight toward the moun-
tains. An old woman he'd seen
barely hobbling, now ran like a
deer. Children toddled desper-
ately. Adults snatched them up
and ran. Larger children fled on
twinkling legs. The inhabitants of
Ardea vanished toward the hills In
a straggling, racing, panting
stream. They disapf>eared around
an outcrop of stotie which was
merely the nearest place that
would hide them. Then there was
silence.

Col)urn turned his head blajikly
in the direction from which they
had run. He saw the mountains —
incredibly stony and barren. That
was all. No, not quite — there
was something far away which
was subtly different in color from
the hillsides. It moved. It flowed
over a hill crest, coming plainly
from somewhere beyond the moun-

tains. It was vague in shape. Co-
burn felt a momentary stirring of
superstition. There simply couldn’t
be anything so huge. . . .

But there could. There was. It
was a column of soldiers in uni-
forms that looked dark-gray at
this distance. It flowed slowly out
of the mountains like a colossal
snake — some Midgard monster
or river of destruction. It moved
with an awful, deliberate steadi-
ness toward the village of Ardea.

Coburn caught his breath. Then
he was running too. He was out of
the village almost before he real-
ized it. He did not try to follow
the villagers. He might lead pur-
suers after them. There was a
narrow defile nearby. Tanks could
hardly follow it, and it did not
lead where they would be going.
He plunged into it and was in-
stantly hidden. He pelted on. It
was a trail from somewhere, be-
cause he saw ancient donkey-
droppings on the stones, but he
did not know where it led. He
simply ran to get away from the
village and the soldiers who were
coming toward it.

This was Greece. I'hey were
Bulgarian soldiers. This was not
war or even invasion. This was
worse — a cold-war raid . He kept
running and presently rocky cliffs
overhung him on one side, a vast
e.\panse of sky loomed to his left.
He found himself panting. He
began to hope that he was actu-
ally safe.

108

AMAZIMG STORIES

Then he heanl a voice. It
sounded vexed. Quite incredibly,
it was talkinpf English. “But my
dear young lady ! ’ ' it said severely.
“You simply mustn't go on!
There’s the very devil of a mess
turning up, and you mustn’t run
into it!”

A girl’s voice answered, also in
English. “I’m sure — I don’t
know what you're talking about I ’’

“I'm afraid I can't explain.
But, truly, you mustn’t go on to
the village!”

Coburn pushed ahead. He came
upon the people who had spoken.
There was a girl riding on a don-
key. She was American. Trim.
Neat. Uneasy, but reasonably
self-confident. And there was a
man standing by the trail, with a
slide of earth behind him and ntud
on his boots as if he’d slid down
somewhere very fast to intercept
this girl. He wore the distinctive
cobluiiie a British correspondent
is apt to alTeci in the wilds.

They turned as Coburn came
into view. The girl goggled at
iiim. He was not exactly the sort
of third person one expected to
find on a very lonely, ill-defined
rocky trail many miles north of
Salonika.

When they turned to him, Co-
burn recognized the man. He’d
met Dillon once or twice in Salon-
ika. He panted: “Dillon! There’s
a column of soldiers headed across
the border! Bulgarians!”

“How close?” asked Dillon.

“They’re coming,” said Co-
burn, with some difficulty due to
lack of breath. “ I saw them across
the valley. Everybody’s run away
from the village. I was the last
one out.”

Dillon nodded composedly. He
looked intently at Coburn. “You
know me,” he said reservedly.
“Should I remember you?”

“I’ve met you once or twice,”
Coburn told him. “In Salonika.”

"Oh,” said Dillon. “Oh, yes.
Sorr>’. I’ve got some cameras up
yonder. I want a picture or two of
those Bulgarians. See if you can
persuade this young lady not to
go on. 1 fancy it’s safe enough
here. Not a normal raid route
through this pass.”

Coburn nodded. Dillon expected
the rakl, evidently. This .sort of
thing had happened in Turkey.
Now it would start up here, in
Greece. The soldiers would strike
fast and far, at first. They
wouldn’t stop to hunt down the
local inhabitants. Not yet.

“We'll wait,” said Coburn.
“You’ll be back?”

“Oh, surely!” said Dillon. “Five
minutes or less.”

He started up the precipitous
wall, at whose bottom he had slid
down. He climbed remarkably
well. He went up hand-over-hand
despite the steepness of the stone.
It looked almost impossible, but
Dillon apparently found hand-
grips by instinct, as a good
climber does. In a matter of min-

TIIE INVADEKS

109

utes he vanished, some fifty feet
up, behind a bulging mass of
stone. He did not reappear.

Coburn began to get his breath
back. The girl looked at him, her
forehead creased.

“Just to make sure,” said Co-
burn, “ I’ll see if I can get a view
back down the trail.”

Where the vastness of the sky
showed, he might be able to look
down. He scrambled up a barrier
two man-heights high. There was
a screen of straggly brush, with
emptiness beyond. He peered.

He could see a long way down
and behind, and actually the vil-
lage was clearly in sight from here.

There were rumbling, caterpillar-
tread tanks in the act of entering
it. There were anachronistic
mounted men with them. Cavalry
is outdated, nowadays, but in
rocky mountain country they can
have uses where tanks can’t go.
But here tanks and cavalry looked
grim. Coburn squirmed l>ack and
beckoned to the girl. She joined
him. They peered through the
brushwood together.

The light tanks were scurrying
along the single village street.
Horsemen raced here and there. A
pig squealed. There was a shot.
The tanks emerged from the other
side. They went crawling swiftly
toward the south. But they did

110

AMAZING STORIES

not turn aside where the villagers
had. They headed along the way
Coburn had driven to Ardea.

Infantrymen appeared, itiarch-
ing into the village. An advance
party, rifles ready. This was strict
discipline and standard military
practise. Horsemen rode to tell
them that all was quiet. They
turned and spurred away after
the tanks.

The girl said in a strained voice.
“This is war starting! Invasion!”

Coburn said coldly, “No. No
planes. This isn’t war. It’s a train-
ing exercise, Iron-Curtain style.
This outfit will strike twenty —
maybe thirty miles south. There’s
a town there — Kilkis. They’ll

take it and loot it. By the time
Athens finds out what’s happened,
they’ll be ready to fall back.
They’ll do a little fighting. They’ll
carry off the people. And they’ll
deny everything. The West doesn't
want war. Greece couldn’t fight
by herself. And America wouldn’t
believe that such things could
happen. But they do. It’s what's
called cold war. Ever hear of
that? ”

The main column of soldiers far
below poured up to the village
and went down the straggly street
in a tide of dark figures. The vil-
lage was very small. The soldiers
came out of the other end of the
village. They poured on after the

THE INVADERS

111

tanks, rippling over irregularities
in the way. They seemed innumer-
able.

“Three or four thousand men,”
said Coburn coldly. “This is a big
raid. But it’s not war. Not yet.”

It was not the time for full-scale
war. Bulgaria and the other coun-
tries in its satellite status were
under orders to put a strain upon
the outside world. They were
building up border incidents and
turmoil for the benefit of their
masters. Turkey was on a war
footing, after a number of inci-
dents like this. Indo-China was at
war. Korea was an old story. Now
Greece. It always takes more men
to guard against criminal actions
than to commit them. When this
raid was over Greece would have
to maintain a full-size army in its
northern mountains to guard
against its repetition. Which would
be a strain on its treasury and
might help toward bankruptcy.
This was cold war.

The infantry ended. Horse-
drawn vehicles appeared in a
seemingly endless line. Motorized
transport would be better, but
the Bulgarians were short of it.
Shaggy, stubby animals plodded
in the wake of the tanks and the
infantry. There were two-wheeled
carts in single file all across the
valley. They went through the
village and filed after the soldiers.

“I think,” said Coburn in bit-
ing anger, “this will be all there
i.s to see. They’ll go in until they’re

stopped. They’ll kidnap Greek
civilians and later work them to
death in labor camps. They'll
carry off some children to raise as
spies. But their purpose is prob-
ably only to make such a threat
that the Greeks will go broke
guarding against them. They
know the Greeks don’t want war.”

He began to wriggle back from
the brushwood screen. He was
filled with the sort of sick rage
that comes when you can’t ac-
tively resent insolence and arro-
gance. He hated the people who
wanted the world to collapse, and
this was part of their effort to
bring it about.

He helped the girl down. "Dil-
lon said to wait,” he said. He
found himself shaking with anger
at the men who had ordered the
troops to march. "He said he wa-s
taking pictures. He must have had
an advance tip of some sort. If
so, he’ll have a line of retreat.”

Then Coburn frowned. Not
quite plausible, come to think of
it. But Dillon had certainly known
about the raid. He was set to take
pictures, and he hadn’t been sur-
prised. One would have expected
Greek Army photographers on
hand to take pictures of a raid of
which they had warning . Probably
United Nations observers on the
scejie, too. V’es. There sliould be
Army men and probably a United
Nations team up where Dillon
was.

Coburn explained to the girl.

112

A\fAZING STORIES

“That’ll be it. And they'll have a
radio, too. Probably helicopters
taking^ them out also. I'll go up
and tell them to be sure and have
room for you.’’

He started for the cliff he’d
seen Dillon climb. He paused:
“I’d better have your name for
them to report to Athens.”

“I’m Janice Ames,” she told
him. “The Breen Foundation has
me going around arranging for
lessons for the people up here.
Sanitation and nutrition and mid-
wifery, and so on. The Founda-
tion office is in Salonika, though.”

He nodded and attacked the
cliff.

It hadn’t been a difficult climb
for Dillon. It wasn’t even a long
one for Coburn, but it was much
worse than he'd thought. The
crevices for handholds were rare,
and footholds were almost non-
existent. There were times when
he felt he was holding on by his
fingernails. Dillon seemed to
have made it with perfect ease,
but Coburn found it exhausting.

Fifty feet up he came to the
place where Dillon had vanished.
But it was a preposterously diffi-
cult task to get across an undercut
to where he could grasp a stunted
tree. It was a strain to scramble
up past it. Then he found himself
on the narrowest of possible ledges,
with a sickening drop off to one
side. But Dillon had made it, so
he followed.

He went a hundred yards, and
then the ledge came to an end. He
saw where Dillon must have
climbed. It was possible, but Co-
burn violently did not want to try.
Still . . . He started.

Then something clicked in his
throat. There was a rather deep
ledge for a space of four or five
feet. And there was Dillon. No,
not Dillon. Just Dillon’s clothes.
They lay flat and deflated, but
laid out in one assembly beside a
starveling twisted bush. It would
have been possible for a man to
stand there to take off his clothes,
if he wanted to. But a man who
takes off his clothes — and why
should Dillon do that? — takes
them off one by one. These gar-
ments were fitted together. The
coat was over the shirt, and the
trousers fitted to the bottom of
the shirt over the coat, and the
boots were at the ends of the
trouser legs.

Then Coburn saw something he
did not believe. It palpably was
not true. He saw a hand sticking
out of the end of the sleeve. But
it was not a hand, because it had
collapsed. It was rather like an
unusually thick glove, flesh color.

Then he saw what should have
been Dillon's head. And it was in
place, too. But it was not Dillon’s
head. It was not a head at all. It
was something quite different.
There were no eyes. Merely holes.
Openings. Like a mask.

Coburn felt a sort of roaring in

THE INVADERS

113

his ears, and he could not think
clearly for a moment because of
the shrieking impossibility of
what he was looking at. Dillon’s
necktie had been very neatly un-
tied, and left in place in his collar.
His shirt had been precisely un-
buttoned. He had plainly done it
himself. And then — the unbut-
toned shirt made it clear — he
had come out of his body. Physi-
cally, he had emerged and gone
on. The thing lying flat that had
lapsed at Coburn’s feet was Dil-
lon’s outside. His outside only.
The inside had come out and gone
away. It had climbed the cliff
over Coburn’s head.

The outside of Dillon looked
remarkably like something made
out of foam-rubber. Coburn
touched it, insanely.

He heard his own voice saying
flatly: “It’s a sort of suit. A suit
that looks like Dillon. He was in
it. Something was! Something is
playing the part of Dillon. Maybe
it always was. Maybe there isn’t
any Dillon.’’

He felt a sort of hysterical com-
posure. He opened the chest. It
was patently artificial. There were
such details on the inside as would
be imagined in a container needed
to fit something snugly. At the
edges of the opening there were
fastenings like the teeth of a zip-
per, but somehow different. Co-
burn knew that when this was
fastened there would be no visi-
ble seam.

Whatever wore this suil-that-
looked-like-Dillon could feel per-
fectly confident of passing for Dil-
lon, clothed or otherwise. It could
pass without any question for —

Coburn gagged.

It could pass without question for
a human being.

Obviously, whatever was wear-
ing this foam-rubber replica of
Dillon was not human !

Coburn went back to where he
had to climb down the cUffside
again. He moved like a sleep-
walker. He descended the fifty-
foot cliff by the crevices and the
single protruding rock-point that
had helped him get up. It was
much easier going down. In his
state of mind it was also more
dangerous. He moved in a sort of
robot-like composure.

He moved toward the girl,
trying to make words come out
of his throat, when a small rock
came clattering down the cliff.
He looked up. Dillon was in the
act of swinging to the first part of
the descent. He came down, very
confident and assured. He had
two camera-cases slung from his
shoulders. Coburn stared at him,
utterly unable to believe what
he’d seen ten minutes before.

Dillon reached solid ground and
turned. He smiled wryly. His
shirt was buttoned. His lie was
tied.

“I hoped,’’ he said ruefully to
Janice Ames, “that the Bulgars
would toddle off. But they left a

114

AM.UING STORIES

guard in the village. We can’t
hope to take an easier trail. We’ll
have to go back the way you
came. We’ll get you safe to Sa-
lonika, though.”

The girl smiled, uneasily but
gratefully.

“And,” added Dillon, “we’d
better get started.”

He gallantly helped the girl
remount her donkey. At the sight,
Coburn was shaken out of his
numbness. He moved fiercely to
intervene. But Janice settled her-
self in the saddle and Dillon con-
fidently led the way. Coburn
grimly walked beside her as she
nxle. He was convinced that he
wouldn’t leave her side while Dil-
lon was around. But even as he
knew that desperate certitude, lie
was filled with confusion and a
panicky uncertainty.

When they’d traveled about
half a mile, another frightening
thought occurred to Coburn. Per-
haps Dillon — passing for human
— wasn’t alone. Perhaps there
were thousands like him.

Invaders! Usurp>ers, pretending
to be men. Invaders, obviously,
from space!

They made eight miles. At least
one mile of that, added together,
was climbing straight up. Another
mile was straight down. The rest
was boulder-strewn, twisting, don-
key-wide, slanting, slippery stone.

But there was no sign of anyone
but themselves. The sky remained
undisturbed. No planes. They saw
no sign of the raiding force from
across the border, and they hoard
no gunfire.

Coburn struggled against the
stark Impossibility of wlial he had
seen. The most horrifying concept
regarding invasion from space is
that of creatures who are able to
destroy or subjugate humanity.
A part of that concept was in Co-
burn’s mind now. Dillon marched
on ahead, in every way convinc-
ingly human. But he wasn’t.
And to Coburn, his presence as a
non-human invader of Earth
made the border-crossing by the
Bulgarians seem almost benevo-
lent.

They went on. The next hill was
long and steep. Then they were at
the hill crest. They looked down
into a village called Ndou&i. it
was larger than Ardea, but not
much larger. One of the houses
burned untended. Figures moved
about. There were tanks in sight,
and many soldiers in the uniform
that looked dark-gray at a dis-
tance. The route by which Dillon
had traveled had plainly curved
into the line-of-march of the Bul-
garian raiding force.

But the moving figures were not
soldiers. The sokliers were still.
They lay down on the grass in
irregular, sprawling windrows.
The tanks were not in motion.
There were two-wheeled carts in

THE INVADERS

315

sight — reaching back along the
invasion-route — and they were
just as stationary as the men and
the tanks. The horses had toppled
in their shafts. They were mo-
tionless.

The movement was of civilians
— men and women .alike. They
were Greek villagers, and they
moved freely among the unmili-
tarily recumbent troops, and even
from this distance their occupa-
tion was clear. They were happily
pickijig the soldiers’ pockets. But
there was one figure wliich moved
from one prone figure to another
much too quickly to be looting.
Coburn saw sunlight glitter on
something in his hand.

Dillon noticed the same thing
Coburn did at the same instant.
He bounded forward. He ran to-
ward the village and its tumbled
soldiers in great, impossible leaps.
No man could make such leaps or
travel so fast. He seemed almost
to soar toward the village, shout-
ing. Coburn and Janice saw him
reach the village. They saw him
rush toward the one man who had
been going swiftly from one prone
soldier to another. It was too far
to see Dillon’s action, but the sun-
light glittered again on something
bright, which this time flew
through the air and dropped to
the ground.

The villagers grouped about
Dillon. There was no sign of a
struggle.

“What’s happened?’’ demanded
Janice uneasily. “Those arc sol-
diers on the ground.”

Coburn’s fright prevented his
caution. He shouted furiously.
“He’s not a man! You saw it!
No man can run so fast! You saw
those jumps! He’s not human!
He’s — something else!’’

Janice jerked her eyes to Co-
burn in panic. “What did you
say?”

Coburn panted: “Dillon’s no
man! He’s a monster from some-
where in space! And he and his
kind have killed those soldiers!
Murdered them! And the soldiers
are men! You stay here. I'll go
down there and — ”

“No!” said Janice, “I’m com-
ing too.”

He took the donkey’s halter
and led the animal down to the
village, with Janice trembling a
little in the saddle. He talked in a
tight, taut, hysterical tone. He
told what he’d found up on the
cliffside. He described in detail
the similitude of a man's body
he’d found deflated beside a
stunted bush.

He did not look at Janice as he
talked. He moved doggedly to-
ward the village, dragging at the
donkey’s head. They neared the
houses very slowly, and Coburn
considered that he walked into the
probability of a group of other
creatures from unthin^ble other
star systems, disguised as men.
It did not occur to him that his

116

AMAZING STORIES

sudden outburst about Dillon
soimdpcl desperately insane to
Janice.

They reached the first of the
fallen soldiers. Janice looked,
shuddering. Then she said thinly:
“He’s breathing!”

He was. He was merely a boy.
Twenty or thereabouts. He lay
on his back, his eyes closed. His
face was upturned like a dead
man's. But his breast rose and fell
rhythmically. He slept as if he
were drugged.

But that was more incredible
than if hekl been Hoad. Regiments
of men fallen simultaneously
asleep. . . .

Coburn’s flow of raging speech
stopped short. He stared. He saw
other fallen soldiers. Dozens of
them. In coma-like slumber, the
soldiers who had come to loot and
murder lay like straws upon the
ground. If they had been dead it
would have been more believable.
At least there are \vays to kill
men. But this . . .

Dillon parted the group of vil-
lagers about him and came to-
ward Coburn and Janice. He was
frowning in a remarkably human
fashion.

“Here’s a mess!” he said irri-
tably. “Those Bulgars came
marching down out of the pass.
The cavalry galloped on ahead
and cut the villagers off so they
couldn’t run away. They started
to loot the village. They weren’t

pleasant. Women began to scream,
and there were shootings — all in
a matter of minutes. And then the
looters began to act strangely.
They staggered around and sat
down and went to sleep!”

He waved his hands in a help-
less gesture, but Coburn was not
deceived.

“The tanks arrived. And they
stopped - and their crews went
to sleep! Then the infantry ap-
peared, staggering as it marched.
The officers halted to see what
was happening ahead, and the
entire infantry dropped off to
filee.p right where it stood!

“ It’s bad! If it had happened a
mile or so back . . . The Greeks
must have played a trick on
them, but those cavalrymen raised
the devil in the few minutes they
were out of hand! They killed
some villagers and then keeled
over. And now the villagers aren’t
pleased. There was one man
whose son was murdered, and he’s
been slitting the Bulgars’ throats!”

He looked at Coburn, and Co-
burn said in a grating voice: “I
see.”

Dillon said dlstressedly : “One
can't let them slit the throats of
sleeping men! I’ll have to stay
here to keep them from going at
it again. I say, Coburn, will you
take one of their staff cars and run
on down somewhere and tell the
Greek government what’s hap-
pened here? Something should be
done about it! Soldiers should

THE INVADERS

117

come to keep order and take
charge of these chaps.”

“Yes,” said Coburn. “I'll do it.
I’ll take Janice along, too.”

“Splendid!” Dillon nodded as
if in relief. “She'd better get out
of the mess entirely. I fancy
there’d have been a full-scale
massacre if we hadn’t come along.
The Greeks have no reason to
love these chaps, and their inten-
tions were hardly amiable. But
one can’t let them be murdered !”

Coburn had his hand on his re-
volver In his pocket. His finger
was on the trigger. But if Dillon
needed him to run an errand, then
there obviously were no others of
his own kind about.

Dillon turned his back. He gave
orders in the barbarous dialect of
the mountains. His voice was
authoritative. Men obeyed him
and dragged uniformed figures out
of a light half-track that was
plainly a staff car. Dillon beck-
oned. and Coburn moved toward
him. The important thing as far
as Coburn was concerned was to
get Janice to safety. Then to re-
port the full event.

“I . . . I’m not sure . . .“be-
gan Janice, her voice shaking.

“I’ll prove what 1 said,” raged
Coburn in a low tone. “I’m not
crazy, though I feel like it!”

Dillon beckoned again. Janice
slipped off the donkey’s back.
She looked pitifully frightened
and irresolute.

“I’ve located the cliap who’s
the mayor of this village, or some-
thing like that. Take liim along.
They might not believe you. but
they'll have to investigate when
he turns up."

A white-bearded villager re-
luctantly climbed into the back
of the car. Dillon pleasantly of-
fered to assist Janice into the
front seat. She climbed in, deathly
white, frightened of Col)urn and
almost ashamed to admit th.at his
vehement outburst ha<l made her
afraid of Dillon, too.

Dillon came around to Coburn's
side of the vehicle. “ Privately,''
he said with a conficlcniial air,
“I’d advise you to tlump this ma} -
or person where he can reach au-
thority, and then go away quietly
and say nothing of what hap-
pened up here. If the Greeks are
using some contrivance that han-
dles an affair like this, it will be
top secret. I'hey won’t like civil-
ians knowing about it.”

Coburn’s grip on his revolver
was savage. It seemed likelv',
now, that Dillon was the only
one of his extraordinarv' kind
about.

“I think I know why you say
that,” he said harshly.

Dillon smiled. “Oh, come now!”
he protested. “I’m quite unoffi-
cial!”

He was incredibly convincing
at that moment. There was a
wry half-smile on his face. He
looked absolutely human; abso-

118

AM.VZING STORIES

lutely like the British correspond-
ent Coburn had met in Salonika.
He was too convincing. Coburn
knew he would suspect his own
sanity unless he made sure.

“You're not only unofficial,”
said Coburn grimly. His hand
came up over the edge of the
staff-car door. It had his revolver
in it. It bore inexorably upon the
very middle of Dillon’s body.
“You’re not human, either!
You’re not a man! Your name
isn’t Dillon! You’re — something
I haven’t a word for! But if you
try anything fancy I’ll see if a
bullet through your middle will
stop you!”

Dillon did not move. He said
easily: “You’re being absurd, my
dear fellow. Put away that pistol.”

“You slipped!” said Coburn
thickly. “You said the Greeks
played a trick on this raiding
party. But you played it. At
Ardea, when you climbed that
cliff — no man could climb so
fast. No man could run as you ran
down into this village. And I saw
that body you’re wearing when
you weren't iii it! I followed you
up the cliff when — ” Coburn’s
voice was ragingly sarcastic — •
“when you were taking pictures!”

Dillon’s face went impassive.
Then he said: “Well?”

“Will you let me scratch your
finger?” demanded Coburn al-
most hysterically. “If it bleeds,
I’ll apologize and freely admit

I’m crazy ! But if it doesn’t . .

The .thing-that-was-not-Dillon
raised its eyebrows. “It wouldn’t,”
it said coolly. “You do know.
What follows?”

“You’re something from space,”
accused Coburn, “sneaking around
Earth trying to find out how to
conquer us! You’re an Invader!
You’re trying out weapons. And
you want me to keep my mouth
shut so we Earth people won’t
patch up our own quarrels and
join forces to hunt you down!
But we’ll do it! We’ll do it!”

The thing-that-was-not-Dillon
said gently: “No. My dear chap,
no one will believe you.”

“We’ll see about that!” snapped
Coburn. “Put those canieras in
the c.ar!”

The figure that looked so hu-
man hesitated a long instant,
then obeyed. It lowered the two
seeming cameras into the back
part of the staff car.

Janice started to say, “I . . .
I . . .”

The pseudo-Dillon smiled at
her. “You think he’s insane, and
naturally you’re scared,” it said
reassuringly. “ But he’s sane. He’s
quite right. I am from outer space.
And I’m not humoring him either.
Look!”

He took a knife from his pK>cket
and snappKjd it open. He deliber-
ately ran the point dowm the side
of one of his fingers.

The skin parted. Something
that looked exactly like foam-

THE INV'ADERS

119

rubber was revealed. There were
even bubbles in it.

The j)scudo-DiUon said, “You
sec, you don’t have to be afraid
of him. He's sane, and quite hu-
man. You’ll feel much better trav-
eling -with him.” Then the figure
turned to Coburn. “You won’t
believe it, but I really like you,
Coburn. I like the way you’ve
reacted. It’s very . . . human.”

Coburn said to him: “It’ll be
human, too, when we start to
hunt you down!” He let the staff
car in gear. Dillon smiled at him.
He let in the clutch, and the car
leaped ahead.

In the two camera-cases Coburn
was sure that he had the cryptic
device that was responsible for the
failure of a cold-war raid. He
wouldn’t have dared drive away
from Dillon leaving these devices
behind. If they were what he
thought, they’d be absolute proof
of the truth of his story, and they
should furnish dues to the sort of
science the Invaders possessed.
Show the world that Invaders
were upon it, and all the world
would combine to defend Harth.
The Cold war would end.

But a bitter doubt came to him.
Would they? Or would they offer
zestfully to be viceroys ancl over-
seers for the Invaders, betraying
the rest of mankind for the privi-
lege of ruling them even under
unhuman masters?

Janice swayed against his shoul-

der. He cast a swift glance at her.
Her face was like marble.

“What’s the matter?”

She shook her head. “ I’m trying
not to faint,” she said unsteadily.
“When you told me he was from
another world 1 . . . thought you
were crazy. But when he adniiUe<l
it . . . when he proved it . . .”

Coburn growled. The trail
twisted and (.livcHl down a sleep
slope. It twisted again ancl ran
across a rushing, frothing stream.
Coburn drove into the rivulet.
Water reared up in wing-like
sheets on either side. The staff
car climbed out, rocking, on the
farther side. Coburn put it to the
ascent beyond. The trail turned
and climbed and descended as the
stony masses of the hills required.

“He’s — from another world!”
repeated Janice. Her teeth chat-
tered. “What do they want —
creatures like him? How how
many of them are there? Anybody
could be one of them! What do
they want?”

“This is a pretty good world,”
said Cobum fiercely. “And his
kind will want it. We’re merely
the natives, the aborigines, to
them. Maybe they plan to wipe
us out, or enslave us. But they
won't! We can spot them now!
They don’t bleed. Scratch one and
you find — foam-rubber. X-rays
will .spot them. We’ll learn to pick
them out — and wlien some spe-
cialists look over those things that
look like cameras we'll know more

120

.\M.\ZING STOKIKS

slill! [Enough to do something!”

“'riien you think it’s an inva-
sion from space?”

“What else?” snapped Coburn.

His stomach was a tight
cramped knot now. He drove the
car hard!

In air miles the distance to be
covered was relatively short. In
road miles it seemed interminable.
I'he road was bad and curving be-
yond lielief. It went many miles
east and many miles west for
every mile of southward gain. The
hour grew late. Coburn had lied
Ardc‘a at sunrise, hut they'd
reached Ndousa after midday and
he drove frantically over incredi-
ble mountain roads until dusk.
Despite sheer recklessness, how-
ever, he could not average thirty
miles an hour. There were times
when even the half-track had to
crawl or it would overturn. The
sun set, and he went on up steep
grades and down steeper ones in
the twilight. Night fell and the
headlights glared ahead, and the
staff -car clanked and clanked and
grumbled and roared on through
the darkness.

They probably passed through
villages the headlights showed
Stone hovels once or twice — but
no lights appeared. It was mid-
night before they saw a moving
yellow spot of brightness with a
glare as of fire upon steam above
it, Tliere were other small lights
in a row behind it, and they

saw that all the tights moved.

“A railroad!” said Cobum.
“We’re getting sotnewhcrel”

It was a railroad train on the
other side of a valley, but they did
not reach the track. The highway
curved away from it.

At two o’clock in the morning
they saw electric lights. The high-
way became suddenly passable.
Presently they ran into the still,
silent streets of a sluml)ering
town — Serrai — an atlministra-
tive center for this part of Greece.
They threaded its ways while
Coburn watched for a proper
place to stop. Once a curiously-
hatte<l policeman stared blankly
at them under an arc lamp as the
staff car clanked and rumbled past
him. 'I'hey saw a great pile of stone
which was a church. They saw a
railroad station.

Not far away there was a build-
ing in which there were lights. .A
man in uniform came out of its
door.

Coburn stopped a block away.
There were uneasy stirrings, and
the white-bearded passenger from
the village said incomi)rehensible
things in a feeble voice. Coburn
got Janice out of the car first. She
was stiff and dizzy when she tried
to walk. The Greek was in worse
condition still. He clung to the
side of the .staff car.

"We tell the truth,” said Co-
burn curtly, “when we talk to the
police. We tell the whole truth —
except about Dillon. That sounds

THK I.SV.tDERS

121

too crazy. We tell it to top-level
officials only, after they realize
that something they don’t know
anything about has really taken
place. Talk of Invaders from space
would either get us locked up as
lunatics or would create a panic.
This man will tell what happened
up there, and they’ll investigate.
But we take these so-called cam-
eras to Salonika, and get to an
American battleship.”

He lifted Dillon’s two cameras
by the carrying-straps. And the
straps pulled free. They’d held the
cases safely enough during a long
journey on foot across the moun-
tains. But they pulled clear now.

Coburn had a bitter thought.
He struck a match. He saw the
leather cases on the floor of the
staff car. He picked up one of
them. He took it to the light of
the headlights, standing there in
the resonant darkness of a street
in a city of stone houses.

The leather was brittle. It was
friable, as if it had been in a fire.
Coburn plucked it open, and it
came apart in his hands. Inside
there was the smell of scorched
things. I'here W'as a gritty metallic
powder. Nothing else. 'I'he other
carrying-case was in exactly the
same condition.

Coburn muttered bitterly;
“They were set to destroy them-
selves if they got into other hands
than Dillon’s. We haven't a bit of
proof that he wasn’t a human

being. Not a shred of proof!”

He suddenly felt a sick rage, as
if he had been played with and
mocked. The raid from Bulgaria
was serious enough, of cdurse. It
would have killed hundreds of
people and possibly hundreds of
others would have been enslaved.
But even that was secondary in
Coburn’s mind. The important
thing was that there were Invad-
ers upon Earth. Non-human mon-
sters, who passed for humans
through disguise. They had been
able to travel through space to
land secretly upon Earth. They
moved unknown among men,
learning the secrets of mankind,
preparing for — what?

Ill

They got into Salonika early
afternoon of the next day, after
many hours upon an antique rail-
road train that puffed and grunted
and groaned among interminable
mountains. Coburn got a taxi to
take Janice to the office of the
Breen Foundation which had sent
her up to the north of Greece to
establish its philanthropic in-
struction courses. He hadn’t much
to say to Janice as they rode. He
was too disheartened.

In the cab, though, he saw great
placards on which newspaper
headlines appeared in Greek. He
could make out the gist of them.
Essentially, they shrieked that
Bulgarians had invaded Greece

122

AMAZING STORIES

and had been wiped out. He made
out the phrase for valiant Greek
army. And the Greek army was
valiant enouRh, but it hadn’t had
anything to do with this.

From the police station in
Serrai — he had been interviewed
there until dawn — he knew what
action had been taken. Army
planes had flown northward in
the darkness, moved by the May-
er’s, and Coburn's, and Janice's
tale of Bulgarian soldiers on
Greek soil, sleeping soundly. They
had released parachute flares and
located the village of Ndousa.
Parachutists with field radios had
jumped, while other flares burned
to light them to the ground. That
was that. Judging by the placards,
their reports had borne out the
story Coburn had brought down.
There would be a motorized Greek
division on the way to take charge
of the four-thousand-odd uncon-
scious raiders. There was probably
an advance guard there now.

But there was no official news.
Even the Greek newspapers called
it rumors. Actually, it was leaked
information. It would be reason-
able for the Greek government to
let it leak, look smug, and blandly
say “No comment” to all in-
quiries, including those from Bul-
garia.

But behind that appearance of
complacency, the Greek govern-
ment would be going quietly mad
trying to understand what so for-
tunately had happened. And Co-

burn could tell them. But he knew
better than to try without some
sort of proof. Yet, he had to tell.
The facts were more important
than what people thought of him.

The cab stopped before his own
office. He paid the driver. The
driver beamed and said happily:
“ Tys nikisarne, e?”

Coburn said, “ Poly kala. Orea.”

His office was ejnpty. It was
dustier than usual. His secretary
was probably taking a holiday
since he was supposed to be out of
town. He grunted and sat down at
'the telephone. He called a man he
knew. Hallen — another Ameri-
can — was attached to a non-
profit corporation which was at-
tached to an agency which was
supposed to cooperate with a
committee which had something
to do with NATO. Hallen an-
swered the phone in person.

Coburn identified himself.
“Have you heard any rumors
about a Bulgarian raid up-coun-
try?” he asked.

“I haven’t heard anything else
since I got up,” Hallen told him.

“I was there,” said Coburn, “I
brought the news down. Can you
come over?”

“I’m halfway there now!” said
Hallen as he slammed down the
phone.

Coburn paced up and down his
office. It was very dusty. Even
the seat of the chair at his secre-
tary’s desk was dusty. The odds

THK INVADERS

123

were that she was coming in only
to sort the mail, and not even sit-
ting down for that. He shrugged.

He heard footsteps. The door
opened. His secretary, Helena,
came in. She looked surprised.

"I was at lunch,” she explained.
She had a very slight accent. She
hung up her coat. “I am sorry. I
stopped at a store.”

He had paused in his pacing to
nod at her. Now he stared, but
her back was turned toward him.
He blinked. She had just told a
very transparent lie. And Helena
was normally very truthful.

“You had a good trip?” she
asked politely.

“Fair,” said Coburn. “Any
phone calls this morning?” he
asked.

“Not this morning,” she said
politely.

She reached in a desk drawer.
She brought out paper. She put
it in the typewriter and began to
type.

Coburn felt very queer. Then he
saw something else. There was a
fly in the office — a large, green-
bodied fly of metallic lustre. The
inhabitants of Salonika said with
morbid pride that it was a spe-
cialty of the town, with the most
painful of all known fly stings.
And Helena aljhorred flies.

It landed on the bare skin of her
neck. She did not notice. It stayed
there. Orditiarily she would have
jumped up, exclaiming angrily in
Greek, and then she would have

pursued the fly vengefully with a
folded newspaper until she killed
it. But now she ignored it.

Hallen came in, stamping. Co-
burn closed the door behind him.
He felt queer at the pit of his
stomach. For Helena to let a fly
stay on her neck suggested that
her skin was . . . somehow not
like its usual self.

“What happened to those Bul-
garians?” demanded Hallen.

Coburn told him precisely what
he'd seen when he arrived in
Ndousa after an eight-mile hike
through mountains. Then he wont
back and told Hallen precisely
what he’d seen up on the cliffside.

“His cameras were some sort of
weapon. He played it on the
marching column, it took effeci
and they went to sleep,” he lin-
ished. “I took them away from
him and brought them down,
but — ”

He told about the contents of
the camera cases being turned to
a gritty, sooty powder. Then he
added: “Dillon set them to de-
stroy themselves. You under-
stand. He’s not a man. He’s a
creature from some planet other
than Earth, passing for a human
being. He’s an Invader from
space.”

Hallen ’s expression was uneasy
and compassionate but utterly
unbelieving. Helena shivered and
turned away her face. Coburn’s
lips went taut. He reached down
to his desk. He made a sudden,

124

AMAZIXG STORIES

abrupt gesture. Ilallcn caught his
hreatli and started up.

Coburn said curtly: “Another
one of them. Helena, is that
foam-suit comfortable?”

The girl jerked her face around.
She looked frightened.

“Helena,” said Coburn, “the
real Helena, that is, would not
sit down on a dusty chair. No
woman would. But you did. She is
a very truthful girl. You lied to
me. And 1 just stuck pins in your
shoulder and you didn’t notice.
ThcyVe sticking in your foam suit
now. You and the creature that
passed for Dillon up-country are
both aliens. Invaders. Do you
want to try to convince me other-
wise?”

The girl said evenly: “Mr. Co-
burn, 1 do not think you are
well — ”

Then Coburn said thickly: “I’m
crazy enough to put a bullet
through you if your gang of devils
has harmed the real Helena.
What’s happened to her?”

Hallen moved irresolutely to
interfere. But the girl’s expression
changed. She smiled. “The real
Helena, Mr. Coburn,” said an
entirely new voice, “has gone to
the suburbs to visit her fiancee’s
family. She is quite safe.”

There was dead silence. The
figure — it even moved like Hel-
ena — got composedly to its feet.
It got its coat. It put the coat on.
Hallen stared with his mouth

open. The pins hadn't convinced
him, but the utterly different
voice coming from this girl’s
mouth had. Yet, waves of con-
flicting disbelief and conviction,
horror and a racking doubt,
chased themselves over his fea-
tures.

“She admits she's not Helena!”
said Coburn with loathing. “It’s
not human! Should I shoot it?”

The girl smiled at him again.
Her eyes were very bright. “You
will not, Mr. Coburn. -And you
will not even try to keep me
prisoner to prove your story. If I
screamed that you attack me — ”
the smile widened — “Helena’s
good Greek friends would come to
my assistance.”

She walked confidently to the
door and opened it. Then she said
warmly: “You are very intelli-
gent, Mr. Coburn. We approve of
you very much. But nobody will
believe you.”

The office door closed.

Coburn turned stilTly to the
man he d called to hear him.
“Should I have shot her, Hal-
len?”

Hallen sat down as if his knees
had given way beneath him.
After a long time he got out a
handkerchief and painfully mopped
his face. At the same time he shiv-
ered.

“N-no. . . Then he swal-
lowed. “My God, Coburn! It's
true!”

“Yes,” said Coburn bitterly,
125

THE INVADEKS

“or you’re as crazy as I am.’’

Hallcn'a eyes looked haunted.
“I — I . . He swallowed
again. “There’s no question about
the Bulgarian business. That did
happen ! And you were there. And
— there’ve been other things.
. . . Rumors. . . . Reports that
nobody believed. ... I might
be able to get somebody to listen.
. . He shivered again. “If it’s
true, it’s the most terrible thing
that ever happened. Invaders
from space. . . . Where do you
think they came from, Coburn?’’

“The creature that looked like
Dillon could climb incredibly fast.
I saw it run and leap. Nothing on
Earth could run or leap like that.’’
Cobum shrugged. “ Maybe a planet
of another sun, with a monstrous
gravity.’’

“Try to get somebody to be-
lieve tliat, eh?” Hallen gut pain-
fully to his feet. “I’ll see what I
can do. I . . . don’t know that I
can do anything but get myself
locked up for observation. But I’ll
call you in an hour.”

He wont unsteadily out of the
door. Coburn instantly called the
Breen Foundation on the tele-
phone. He’d left Janice there less
than an hour before. She came to
the phone and gasped when she
heard his voice. Raging, he told
her of Helena, then cautioned her
to be especially careful — to be
suspicious of everybody.

“Don’t take anybody’s word!”
snapped Coburn. “Doubt every-

body! Doubt me! Until you’re ab-
solutely certain. Those creatures
arc everywhere. . . . They may
pretend to be anybody!”

After Cobum hung up on
Janice, he sat back and tried to
think logically. There had to be
some way by which an e.Ktra-
terrestrial Invader could be told
instantly from a human being.
Unmask and prove even one such
creature, and the whole story
would be proved. But how detect
them? Their skin was perfecth'
deceptive. Scratched, of course,
they could be caught. But one
couldn’t go around scratching
people. I'here was nothing of the
alien creature’s own actual form
that showed.

Then Coburn remembered the
Dillon foam suit. The head had
been hollow. Flaccid. Holes in-
stead of eyes. The creature’s own
eyes showed through.

But he’d have to make certain.
He'd have to look at a foam-suited
creature. He could have examined
Helena’s eyes, but she was gone
now. However, there was an al-
ternative. There was a Dillon in
Salonika, as there was a Helena.
If the Dillon in Salonika was the
real Dillon — if there were a I'eal
Dillon — he could look at his
eyes. He could tell if he were the
false Dillon or the real one.

At this hour of the afternoon a
Britisher would consider tea a
necessity. There was only one

126

.AMAZING STORIES

place in Salonika where they
served tea that an Englishman,
would consider drinkable. Coburn
got into a cab and gave the driver
the address, and made sure of the
revolver in his pocket. Me was
frightened. He was either going to
meet with a monster from outer
space, or be on the way to making
so colossal a fool of himself that a
mental asylum would yawn for
him.

He went into the one coffee-
shop in Salonika which served
drinkable tea. It was dark and
dingy inside, though the table-
clothes were spotless. He went in,
and there was Dillon,

Coburn's tlesh crawled. If the
figure sitting there with the Lon-
don Times and a cup of tea before
him were actually a monster from
another planet . . .

But Dillon read comfortably,
and sipped his tea. Coburn ap-
proached, and the Englishman
looked up inquiringly.

“I was ... up in the moun-
tains.” said Coburn feverishly,
"when those Bulgarians came
over. I catt give you the story.”

Dillon said frostily: ‘‘I’m not
interested. The government’s of-
ficially denied that any such inci-
dent took place. It’s merely a
silly rumor.”

It was reasonable that it should
be denied. But it had happened,
nonetheless. Coburn stared, de-
spite a consciousness that he was
not conspicuously rational in the

way his eyes searched Dillon’s
face hungrily. The eyes were dif-
ferent! The eyes of the Dillon up
in the mountains had been larger,
and the brown part — But he had
to be sure.

Sud<lenly, Coburn found him-
self grinning. There was a simple,
a perfect, an absolute test for
humanity!

Dillon said suspiciously: “What
the devil are you staring at me
for?”

Coburn continued to grin un-
controllably, even as he said in a
tone of apology: “ 1 hate to<lo this,
but I have to be sure. . . .”

He swung. He connected with
Dillon’s nose. Blood started.

Coburn zestfully let himself
be thrown out. while Dillon
roared and tried to get at liim
through the flying wedge of wait-
ers. He felt an enormous relaxa-
tion on the way back to his office
in another cab. He was a trifle
battered, but it was worth it.

Back in the office he called
Hallen again. And again Hallen
answered. He sounded guilty and
worried.

“I don’t know whether I’m
crazy or not,” he said bitterly.
“But I was in your office. 1 saw
your secretary there — and she
didn’t feel pins stuck in her. And
something did happen to those
Bulgarians that the Greeks don’t
know anything about, or the
Americans either. So you’re to tell

THE INV.\DKKS

127

your story to the hi^h brass down
in Athens. 1 think you’ll be locked
up afterward as a lunatic — and
me with you for believing my own
eyes. But a plane’s being readied.”

“’Where do I meet you?” asked
Coburn.

Hallen told him. A certain room
out at the airport. Coburn hung
up. The telephone rang instantly.
He was on the way out, but he
turned back and answered it.
Janice’s voice — amazingly con-
vincing— came from the instru-
ment. And at the first words his
throat went dry. Because it
couldn’t be Janice.

“I’ve been trying to get you.
Have you tried to reach me?”

“Why, no. Why?”

Janice’s voice said ; “ I’ve some-
thing interesting to tell you. I
left the office an hour ago. Tm at
the place where I live when I’m in
Salonika. Write down the address.
Can you come hero? I ’ve found out
something astonishing!”

He wrote down the address. He
had a feeling of nightmarishness.
This was not Janice —

“I’m clearing up some matters
you’ll guess at,” he said grimly,
“so I may be a little while getting
there. You’ll wait?”

He hung up. And then with a
rather ghastly humor he took
some pins from a box on the desk
and worked absorbedly at bending
one around the inside of the band
of the seal ring he wore on his
right hand.

But he didn’t go to the tele-
phoned address. He went to the
Breen Foundation. And Janice
was there. She was the real Janice.
He knew it instantly he saw her.
She was panic-stricken when he
told her of his own telephone ex-
perience. Her teeth chattered. But
she knew — instinctively, she said
— that he was himself. She got
into the cab with him.

They reached the airport and
found the office Hallen had
named. 'I'he lettering on it, in
Greek and French, said lliat it
was a reception room for official
visitors only.

“Our status is uncertain,” said
Coburn drily. “We may be official
guests, or we may be crazy. It’s a
toss-up which status sticks.”

He opened the door and looked
carefully inside before he entered.
Hallen was there. There was a
lean, hard-bitten colonel of the
American liaison force in Greece.
There was a Greek general, pudgy
and genial, standing with his back
to a window and his hands clasped
behind him. There were two
Greek colonels and a major. They
regarded him soberly.

“Howdo, Coburn,” said Hallen
painfully. “You’re heading for
Athens, you know. This is Miss
Ames? But these gentlemen have
... ah ... a special concern
with that business up-country.
They’d like to hear your story
before you leave.’’

“I suppose,” said Coburn

128

AMAZING STORIES

curily, “it’s a sort of preliminary
commission in lunacy.”

Eiut he shook hands all around.
He kept his left hand in his coat
pocket as he shook hands with his
riglit. His revolver was in his left-
hand pocket now too. The Greek
general beamed at him. The
American colonel’s eyes were hard
and suspicious. One of the two
Greek colonels was very slightly
cross-eyed. The Greek major
shook hands solemnly.

Coburn took a deep breath. “I
know my tale sounds crazy,” he
said, “but ... I had a telephone
call just now. Hallen will bear me
out that my secretary was imper-
sonated by somebody else this
afternoon.”

“I’ve told them that,” said
Hallen unhappily.

“And something was imper-
sonating Dillon up in the hills,”
finished Coburn. “I’ve reason to
believe that at this address” —
and he handed the address he’d
written down to Hallen — "a
. . . creature will be found who
will look most convincingly like
Miss Ames, here. You might send
and see.”

The American colonel snorted:
“This whole tale’s preposterous!
It’s an attempt to cash in on the
actual mystery of what happened
up-country.”

The Greek general protested
gently. His English was so heavily
accented as to be hard to under-
stand, but he pointed out that

Coburn knew details of the event
in Ndousa that only someone who
had been there could know.

“True enough,” said the Ameri-
can officer darkly, “but he can
tell the truth now, before wc make
fools of ourselves sending him to
Athens to be unmasked. Sup-
pose,”^ he said unpleasantly, *‘\'ou
give us the actual facts!”

Coburn nodded. "The idea you
find you can’t take is that crea-
tures that aren’t human can be on
Eartli and pass for human beings.
There’s some evidence on that
right here.” He nodded to the
Greek major who was the junior
officer in the room. “Major, will
you show these other gentleuieu
the palm of your hand?”

The Greek major frowned per-
plexedly. He lifted his hand and
lookefj at it. Then his face went
absolutely impassive.

“I’m ready to shoot!” snapped
Coburn. “Show them your hand.
I can tell now.”

He felt the tensing of the others
in the room, not toward the major
but toward him. They were pre-
paring to jump him, thinking him
mad.

But the major grinned ruefullj^:
“Clever, Mr. Coburn! But how
did you pick me out? ”

Then there was a sensation of
intolerable brightness all around.
But it was not actual light. It was
a sensation inside one's brain.

Coburn felt himself falling. He
knew, somehow, that the others

TIIK INVADERS

129

were falling too. He saw everyone
in the room in the act of slumping
limply to the floor — all but the
Greek major. And Coburn felt a
bitter, despairing fury as con-
sciousness left him.

He came to in a hospital room,
with a nurse and two doctors and
an elaborate oxygen-administering
apparatus. The apparatus was
wheeled out. The nurse followed.
The two doctors hurried after her.
The Aniericaii colonel of the air-
port was standing by the bed on
which Coburn lay, fully dressed.

Coburn felt perfectly all right.
He stirred. The American colonel
said sourly: “You’re not harmed.
Nobfxly was. But Major Pangalos
got away.”

Coburn sat up. There was a
moment’s bare trace of dizziness,
and that was gone too. Coburn
said: “Where’s Miss Ames? What
hapf3ened to her?”

“She’s getting oxygen," said
the colonel. “We were rushed here
from the airport, sleeping soundly
just like those Bulgarians. Major
Pangalos ordered it before he dis-
appeared. Helicopters brought
some Bulgarians down, by the
way, and oxygen brought them to.
Sonaturally they gave us the same
treatment. Very effective.”

The colonel looked both chas-
tened and truculent. “I low’d you
know Major Pangalos for what he

was? He was accepted every-
where as a man.”

“His eyes \tere queer,” said
Coburn. He stood up experimen-
tally. “ I figured they would be, if
one looked. I saw the foam suit
that creature wore up-country,
when he wasn't in it. There were
holes for the eyes. It occurred to
me that his eyes weren’t likely to
be like ours. Not exactly. So I
hunted up the real Dillon, and his
eyes weren’t like I remembered. I
punched him in the nose, by the
way, to make sure he’d bleed and
was human. He was.”

Coburn continued, “You see,
they obviously come from a heavy
planet and move differenlly.
They’re stronger than w’e are.
Much like the way we’d be on the
moon with one-sixth Earth grav-
ity. They probably are used to a
thicker atmosphere. If so, their
eyes wouldn’t be right for here.
They’d need eyeglasses.”

“Major Pangalos didn’t — ”

“Contact eyeglasses,” said Co-
burn sourly. “Little cups of plas-
tic. They slip under the eyelids
and touch the white part of the
e^'e. Familiar enough. But that’s
not all.”

The American colonel looked
troubled. “ I know contact lenses,”
he admitted. “But ”

“If the Invaders have a thick
atmosphere at home,” Coburn
said, “they may have a cloudy
sky. The pupils of their eyes may
need to be larger. Perhaps they’re

130

.AMAZINT, STOHIi:S

n diffcrunt sliape. Or their eyes
may be a completely alien color.
Anyhow, they need contact lenses
not only to correct their vision,
but to make their eyes look like
ours. They’re paintetl bn the m-
sitk; to change the natural look
and color. It's very deceptive.
But you can tell.”

“That goes to Headquarters at
once!” snapped the colonel.

He went out briskly. Cobum
followed him out of the room to
look for Janice. Anil Janice hap-
pened to be looking for him at
exactly the same moment. He was
genuinely astonished to realize
how relieved he was that she was
all right.

He said apologetically: “I was
worried! When I felt myself pass-
ing out I felt pretty rotten at
having failed to protect you.”

She looked at him with nearly
the same sort of surprised satis-
faction. “I’m all right,” she sakl
breathlessly. “I was worried about
you.”

The roaring of motors outside
the hospital interrupted them.
More and more vehicles arrived,
until a deep purring filled the air.
A Greek doctor with a worried
expression hurried somewhere.
Soldiers appeared, hard-bitten,
tough, professional Greek soldiers.
Hallen came out of a hospital
room. The Greek general appeared
with one of the two colonels who’d
been at the airport. The general
nodded, and his eyes seemed cor-

dial. lie waved them ahead of
him into a waiting elevator. The
elevator descended. They went
out of the hospital and there was
an armored car waiting. An im-
pressive escort of motorcycle
troops waited with it..

The Greek general saw Co-
burn’s cynical expression at sight
of the guards. He explained
blandly that since oxygen brought
sleeping Bulgarians out of their
slumber — and had been used on
them - oxygen was handy for use
by aiiybotly who experienced a
bright flash of light in his mind.
The Bulgarian soldiers, inciden-
tally, said that outside the village
of Ardca they’d felt as if the
sunlight had brightened amaz-
ingly, but they felt no effects for
two hours afterward, when they
fell asleei) at Niousa. So, said the
general almost unintelligibly, if
anything untoward hap]>ened on
the way to the airport, everybody
would start breathing oxygen. A
sensation of bright light would be
untoward.

The armored car started off.
with motorcyclists crowded about
it with weapons ready. But the
ritlc to the airport was uneventful.
'I'o others than Janice and Cobum
it ntay even have been tedious.
But when she understood the
general’s explanation, she shiv-
ered a little. She leaned insensibly
closer to Coburn. He took her
hand protectively in his.

THE INVADERS

131

I'hey reached rhe airport. They
roared Lhnnigh the gateway and
<lircctly out upon the darkened
field. Something bellowed and
raced down a runway and took to
the air. Other things followed it.
Tliet- gained altitude and circletl
back overhead. Tiny bluish llick-
crings moved across the overcast
sky. Exhaust flames.

Coburn realized that it was a
fighter plane escort.

The huge transport plane that
waited for them was dark. They
climbed into it and found their
seats. When it roared down the
unlighted field and took to the
air, every thing possible had been
clone to keep anybody from bring-
ing any weapon to boar upon it.

“All safe now!” said the voice
of the American colonel in the
darkness of the unlit plane, as the
plane gained height. ‘‘Inciden-
tally, Coburn, why did you want
to look at I*angalos’ palm? What
did you expect to find there?”

“When 1 started for the air-
jKirl,” Coburn explained, “1 bent
a pin around the band of a ring I
wear. I could let it lie flat when 1
shook liands. Or I could make it
stand out like a spur. 1 set it with
my thumb. 1 saw Pangalos’ eyes,
so 1 had it stand out, and I made a
tear in his plastic skin when 1
shook hands with httn. He didn’t
feel it. of course.” He paused.
“ Did anybody go to the address I
gave Hallan?”

Hallan said, in the darkness:

“Major Pangalos got there first.’’

'fhe blackness outside the plane
seemed to grow deeper. There was
literally nothing to be seen but the
instrument dials up at the pilots’
end of the ship.

The Greek general asketl a ques-
tion in his difficult English.

“Where’ll they come from?”
repealed Coburn. “I’ve no idea.
Off Earth, yes. A heavy planet,
ye.R. I doubt they come from our
solar sy'stem, though. Somewhere
among the stars.”

The Greek general said some-
thing with a sly up-twist of his
v’oice. Whatever and whoever the
Invaders were, he said, they did
not like Bulgarians. If tliey’d
knockerl out the raiding party
simply to test their weapons
against human subjects, at least
they^ had chosen suitable and
pleasing subjects for the test.

There was light. For an instant
Coburn tensed. But the plane
climbed and the brightness stead-
ied. 1 1 was tlic top of a cloud
bank, brilliantly white in the
moonlight. Tliey had flown up
through it, and it reached as far
ahead as they could see. A stubby
fighter plane swam up out of the
mist and fell into position along-
side. Others appeared- They took
formation about the transport and
all flew steadily through the
moonlight.

“I wish I knew,” said the
American colonel vexedly, “if

132

AMAZING STORIlvS

those creatures were only testing
weapons, or if they were getting
sot to start bargaining with us!”

"Meaning?” asked Coburn.

"If they're here,” said the
colonel angrily, "and if they do
mean to meddle in our business,
they may set up a sort of auction
with us bidding against the Iron
Curtain gang for their friendship.
And they'd make any deal!”

The Greek general agreed drily.
He said that free people were not
practical people. They were al-
ways ready to die rather than
cease to be free. Surely the
Greeks had proved themselves
ready to die. But people like the
Bulgarians thought that to con-
tinue to live was the most im-
portant thing in the world. It was,
of course, the practical view-
point. . . .

"They can have it!” growled
Coburn.

Janice said hesitantly: ‘‘But
the Invaders haven’t killed any-
body we know of. They could
have killed the Bulgarians. They
didn’t. The one who called him-
self Dillon stopped one man from
killing them. And they could have
killed us, earlier today at the air-
port. Could they want to be
friends? ”

"They’re starting the WTong
way,” said Coburn.

The Greek general stirred in his
seat, but he was pointedly silent.

The pilot snapped abruptly
from up at the bow of the plane:

“Colonel! sir! Two of the fighters'?
are climbing as if they've spotted
something. There go the rest.”

Coburn leaned across Janice to
stare out the window. When the
fighters were below the transport,
they could be seen in silhoueLle
against the clouds. Above, their
exhaust flames pin-poiiitcd them.
Small blue flames climbed steeply.

The big ship went on. The roar
of its motors was steady and
unvarying. From a passenger seat
it was not possible to look over-
head. But suddenly there were
streaking sparks against the stars.
Tracer bullets. Fighters swerved
and plunged to intercept some-
thing. . . .

And a Thing came down out of
the sky with a terrific velocity.
Tracer bullets sprayed all around
it. Some could be seen to richochet
off its sides. Flashings came from
the alien craft. They were not ex-
plo.sions from guns. They were
lurid, actintic, smokeless blasts
of pure light. The 'Fhing seemed
to be made of polished metal, it
dodged, trying to approach the
transport. The fighters lunged to
prevent it. The ghastly game of
interception seemed to rush here
and there all over the sky.

The strange object was not pos-
sibly of human design or manu-
facture. It had no wings. It left
no trail of jet fumes or rocket
smoke. It was glittering and mir-
ror-like, and it was shaped almost

THE INVADERS

133

exactly like two turtle-shells base
to base. It was flat and oval. It
had no visible external features.

It flung ilself about with in-
credible darts and jerkings. It
could stop stock still as no plane
could possibly stop, and accelerate
at a rate no human body could
endure. It tried savagely to get
through the swarming fighters to
the transport. Its light weapon
flashed — but the pilots would be
. wearing oxygen masks and there
were no casualties antong the hu-
man planes. Once a fighter did
fall off in a steep dive, and flut-
tered almost down to the cloud
bank before it recovered and came
back with its guns spitting.

That one appeared to end the
fight. It came straight up, pump-
ing tracers at the steel flier from
below. And the glittering Thing
seemed to stop dead in the air.
Then it shuddered. It was bathed
in the flaring sparks of tracers.
Then —

It dropped like a stone, tum-
bling aimlessly over and over as it
drop|x.*d. It plummeted into the
cloud bank.

Su{ldenl>' the clouds were
lighted from within. Something
liiskle flared with a momentary’,
terrifying radiance. No lightning
boll ever flashed more luridly.

The transport plane and its
escort flew on and on over the
moonlit bank of clouds.

Presently orders came by radio.
On the report of this attack, the

flight plan would be changed, for
safety. If the air convoy had been
attacked once, it might be at-
tacked again. So it would be
wisest to get it immediately to
where there would be plenty of
protection. 'I'herefore, the trans-
port plane would head for Naples.

Nearly the whole of the United
States Mediterranean fleet was in
the Bay of Naples ju.st then. It
had been there nearly a week, and
by day its liberty parties swarmed
ashore. The merchants and the
souvenli salesmen were entranced.
American sailors had money and
they spent it. The fleet’s officers
were social assets. Its messes
bought satisfyingly of local vi-
ands, and everybody was happy.

All but one small group. The
new.spapers of one of the Italian
political parties howled infuri-
atcdly. They had orders to howl,
from behind the Iron Curtain.
The American fleet, that one
parly’s newspapers bellowed, was
imperialistic, capitalistic, and de-
cadent. In short, there was viru-
lent propaganda against the Amer-
ican fleet in Naples. But most
people were glad it was there any-
way. Certainly nobody stayed
awake worrying about it.

People were staying awake
worrying cibouL the transporl
plane carrying Coburn and Janice,
however. On the plane, Janice was
fearful and pressed close to Co-
burn, and he found it an absorbing

134

AMAZING STORIES

i'xpei'i<MK'(? an<I was movrd to talk
in a low toae about other matters
than extra-terrestrial Invaders
and foam suits and interstellar
travel. Janice found those other
subjects surprisin^dy lilted to
make her forget about being
afraid.

Elsewhere, the people who
stayed awake did talk about just
the subjects ('oburn was a voiding,
d'he convoy carrying Coburn to
tell what he knew had been
attacked. By a plane which was
definitely not made or manned
by hutnan beings. 'I'lie news
Hashed through the air across
continents. It went under the
ocean over sea beds. It traveled
in the tightest and most closely-
guardeti of diplomatic ctxles. The
Greek government gave the other
NATO nations a confidential ac-
count of the Bulgarian raid and
what had happenetl to it. These
details were past question. The
facts brought out by C'oburii were
true, too.

So secret instructions followed
the news. At first tliey went only
to highly-trusted individuals. In
thirty nations, top-ranking officials
and military officers blindfolded
each other in turn and gravely
stuck j)iiis in each other. The
blindfolded person was expected
to name the place where he had
been stuck. This had an liistorical
precedent. In olden days, pins
were stuck in suspected witches.
'Phey had patches of skin in which

llfen> was nn s«‘n.snii<)n, ami <lis-
oovery of such areas ct)ndemned
them to dciith. Psychologists in
later centuries found that patches
of anaesthetic skin were tt’pical of
certain forms of hysteria, and
therefore <lid not execute their pa-
tients. But tlie Invaders, by the
fact that their seemingly human
bodies were not flesh at all, could
not pass such tests.

'I'here were consequences. A
Minister of Defense of a European
nation amusedly watched the
tests on his subordinates, blandly
excusetl himself for a moment be-
fore his own turn came, and did
not come back. A general of di-
vision vanished into thin air.
Diplomatic code clerks painstak-
ingly deco<led the in.struclions for
such tests, and were nowhere
about when they themselves were
to be testc<l. An eminent llolly-
wtKxJ director and an Olympic
champion ceased to be.

In the free world nearly a hun-
(Ireil prominent individuals simply
disappeared. I'ew were in position
to influence high-level decisions.
Many were in line to know rather
signific.ant details of world affairs.
There was alarm.

It was plain, too, that not all
ilisguised Invaders wouUI have
had to vanish. Many would not
even be called on for test. They
would stay where they were. .‘Xiid
there were private persons. . . .

Tiiere w.as consternation. But

THE INV.tDERS

135

Janice, in the plane, was saying
softly to Coburn: “The — crea-
ture who telephoned and said she
was me. How did you know she
wasn’t?”

“ I went to the Breen P'ounda-
tion (irst," said Coburn. “ I looked
into your eyes — and they were
right. So I didn’t need to stick a
pin in you.”

The thought of Coburn not
needing to stick a pin in her im-
pressed Janice as beautiful trust.
She sighed contentedly. “Of
course >’ou’d know,” she said.
“So would I — now!” She laughed
a little.

The convoy flew on. The lurid
round disk of the moon descended
toward the w'est.

“ll'll be sunrise soon. But I
imagine we’ll land before dawn.’’

'rhey did. Tlte flying group of
planes flew lower. Coburn saw
a single light on the ground. It
was very tiny, and it vanished
rearward with great speetl. Later
there was another light, and a
dull-red glow in the sky. Still later,
infinitesimal twinklings on the
ground at the horizon. They in-
creased in number but not in size,
and llie plane swung hugely to the
left, and the lights on the ground
formed a visible pattern. And
moonlight — • broken by the shad-
ows of clouds — displayed the
cit>- and the Bay of Naples below.

The transport plane landed.
The passengers descended. Co-
burn saw Hallen, the American

colonel, the Greek general, and a
Greek colonel. The other had been
left l)elund to take charge of
things in Salonika. Here the uni-
forms were American, and naval.
There were some Italian police
in v’iew, but most of the men
alx)ut were American seamen, os-
tensibly on shore leave. But Co-
burn doubted very much if they
were as comi)letely unarmed as
men on shore leave usually are.

A man in a cap with much gold
braid greeted the American colo-
nel, tile Greek general, and the
Greek colonel. He came to Co-
burn, to whose arm Janice seemed
to cling.

“We’re taking you out to the
fleet. WeVe taken care of every-
thing. Everybody’s had pins stuck
in him!”

It was very humorous, of
course. They moved away from
the plane. Surrounded by white-
clad sailors, the party from the
plane moved into the hangar.

Then a voice snapped a startled
question, in English. An instant
later it rasped: “Stop or I’ll
shoot!”

Then there was a bright flash of
light. The interior of the hangar
was made vivid by it. It went out.
And as it disapjieared there were
the sounds of running footsteps.
Only they did not run properly.
They ran in great leaps. Impossi-
ble leaps. Monstrous leaps. A
man might run like that on the
moon, with a lesser gravity. A

136

AM.tZING STORIES

creature accustomed to much
Rreater gravity might run like
that on Earth. But it would not
be human.

It got away.

There was a waiting car. Tliey
got into it. They pulled out from
the airport with other cars close
before and behind. The cavalcade
raced for the city and the shore-
line surrounded by a guard less
noisy but no less effective than
the Greek motorcycle troopers.

But the Greek general said
stmicthlng meditative in the dark
interior of the car.

"What's that?" demanded
someone authoritatively.

The Greek . general said it
again, mildly. This latest attempt
to seize them or harm rltem —
if it was that — had been surpris-
ingly inept. It was strange that
creatures able to travel between
the stars and i)ut regiments and
tanks out of action should fail so
dismally to kill or kidnap Coburn,
if they really wanted to. Could it
be that they were not quite sin-
cere in their efforts?

"That.” said the authoritative
voice, "is an idea!”

They rcaclierl the waterfront.
And here in the darkest part of
the night and with the moon near
to setting, the waters of the Bay
of Naples rolled in small, smooth-
surfaced, tranquil waves. There
was a Navy barge waiting. Those
who had come by plane boarded
it. It cast off and headed out into

the middle of the huge harbor.

In minutes there was a giant
hull looming overhead. They
stepped out onto a landing ladder
and climbed interminably up the
ship’s metal side. Then there was
an open door.

"Now,” said the American
colonel triumphantly, "now ev-
erything’s all right! Nothing can
happen now, short of an atomic
bomb!”

The Greek general glanced at
him out of the corner of his e^'es.
He said something In that heavy
accent of his. He asked mildly if
creatures — Invaders — who
could travel between the stars
were unlikely to be able to make
atom bombs if they wanted to.

There was no answer. But some-
body led Coburn into an office
where this carrier’s skipper was
at his desk. He looked at Coburn
with a sardonic, unfriendly eye.

"Mr. Coburn, I believe,” he
said remotely. "You’ve been very
well staged-managed by your
friends. Mr. Coburn. They’ve
made it look as if they were try ing
hard to kill you, eh? But tve know
hetrer, don’t we? We know it’s nil
a build-up for you to make a cleal
for them, eh? Well, Mr. Col.uirn,
you’ll find it’s going to bo a let-
down instead I You’re not officially
under arrest, but I wouldn't
advise you to try to start any-
thing, Mr. Coburn! We’re apt to
be rather crude in dealing with
emissaries of enemies of all the

THE INVADERS

137

138

human race. And don’t forget it!”

And this was Coburn’s first
inkling that he was regarded as a
traitor of his planet who had sold
out to the Invaders. All the plans
made from his information would
he based on the supposition that
he intended to betray mankind
by misleading it.

It vras not >’et forty-eight hours
since Coburn had been inter-
rupted in the act of starting his
car up in Ardea. Greek newspa-
[)ers had splashed lurid headlines
of a rumored invasion by Bul-
garians, and their rumored defeat.
The story was not widely copied.
It sounded too unlikely. In a
few hours it would be time for a
new set of newspapers to begin to
ap[)car. Not one of them would

print a single word about the most
important disclosure in human
history: that extra-terrestrial In-
vaders moved blandly about
among human beings without
being suspected.

The newspapers didn’t know it.
On Inside pages and bottom cor-
ners, the London papers might
refer briefly to the remarkable
rumor that had swept over Greece
about an invasion force said to
have crossed its border. I'lie Lon-
don papers would say that the
Greek government officially de-
nied that such a happening had
taken place. The New York pa-
pers wocjld he full of a political
scandal among municipal officials,
the Washington papers would deal
largely with a Congressional in-
vestigation committee hearing,
Los Angeles would have a new
and gory murder to exploit, San
Francisco news would be of a
water-front strike, Tokyo would
talk of cherry blossoms, Delhi
of Pakistan, and the French press
would discuss the political crisis.
But no newspaper, anywhere,
would talk about Invaders.

In the United States radar
technicians had been i-outed out of
bed and informed that night
fighters had had a fight with an
alien ship manned by iion-hu-
mans and had destroyed it, but
their radars detected nothing at
all. An hour after sunrise in Naples
they had come up with a coinbina-

139

lion of radar frequencies which
were built to detect everything.
Instructions wei'C going out in
code to all radar establishments
on how to set it up on existing
equipment. Long before that time,
business machines had begun in-
tricate operations with punched
cards containing all known facts
about the people known to have
dropped out of sight. Other ma-
chines began to integrate crackpot
reports of things sighted in divers
places. The stores of Hunter and
Nereid rockets — especialK' tlie
remote-control jobs — were brok-
en out. Great Air Transport
planes began to haul them to
where they might be needed.

In England, certain establish-
ments that had never been men-
tioned even in Parliament were
put on war alert. There was fran-
tic scurrying-about in France. In
Sweden a formerly ignored scien-
tist was called to a twice-scram-
bled telephone connection and
consulted at length about objects
reported over Sweden’s skies.
The Canadian Air Force tumbled
out in darkness and was briefed.
In Chile there was agitation, and
in Peru.

'There was earnest effort to
secure cooperation from behind
the Iron Curtain, but that did not
work. The Iron Curtain stoofi pat,
demanding the most detailed of
information and the privilege of
inspecting all weapons intended
for use against anylDody so far

unnamed, but refusing all infor-
mation of its own. In fact, there
was a very normal reaction every-
where, except that the newspapers
didn't know anything to print.

These secret hassles were con-
tinuing as the dawnlight moved
over Italy and made Naples and
its harbor quite the most beauti-
ful place in the world. When dciy-
light rolled over France, matters
were beginning to fall into pat-
tern. As daybreak moved across
the Atlantic, at least the measures
to be taken began to be visiialij^ed
and orders giv^en for their ac-
comxjllshment.

And then, with sunrise in .Amer-
ica, real preparations got under
way.

But hours earlier there was con-
sultation on the carrier in the Bay
of Naples. Coburn sat in a ward-
room in a cold fury which was in
part despair. He had been kept in
complete ignorance of all meas-
ures taken, and he felt the raging
indignation of a man accused of
treason. He was being questioned
again. He was treated with an icy
courtesy that was worse than
accusation. The carrier skipper
mentioned with detachment that,
of course, Coburn had never been
in any danger. Obviously. The
event in the airport at Salonika
and the aft.ack on the convoy
were window-dressing. 'Fhey were
not attempts to withdraw him
from circulation, but to draw at-
tention to him. Which, of course,

140

AMAZING STOKIES

impliofl thnt the Invaders — who-
ever or whatever they might be —
considered Coburn a useful tool
for whatever purpose they in-
tended.

This was before the conference
officially began. It took time to
arrange. Tliere were radio tech-
nicians with microphones. I'he
consultation — duly scrambled
and re-scrambled — would be re-
layed to Washington while it was
on. It was a top level conference.
Halleii was included, but he did
not seem happy.

n’lien things were ready. The
skipper of the carrier took over,
with full awareness that the very
highest brass in Washington was
listening to every word.

“We can skip your technical
information, Mr. Coburn,” he
said with ironic courtesy, “unless
jou’ve something new to offer.”

Coburn shook his head. He
seethed.

“P'or the record,” said the skip-
per, “I repeat that it is obvious
that 3'our presence at the scene
when those Bulgarians were
knocked out, that you were at-
tacked in Salonika, that the ship
carrying you was also attacked,
and that there was an incident on
your landing here: — it’s obvious
that all these things were stage-,
managed to call attention to you,
for the purposes of . . . whoever
staged them. Have you ans'thlng
more to offer?”

“No,” growled Coburn. “I’ve
told all 1 know.” He was furiously
angry and felt completely help-
less.

“Your information, ” purred the
Skipper, “and the stage-managed
incidents, make you look like a
very patriotic citizen who is
feared by the supposedly extra-
terrestrial creatures. But wc don't
have to play any longer, Mr. Co-
burn. What were you told to tell
your government? What do these
. . . extra-terrestrials want?”

“My guess,” snapped Coburn,
“is that they want Earth.”

The skipper raised his eyebrows.
“Arc you threatening us in their
name?” he asked, jjurriiig.

“I’m telling you my guess,
said Coburn hotly. “It’s just as
good as yours and no better! I
have no instructions from them,
i have no message from them,
Tve only my own opinion, which
is that we humans had better get
ready to fight. I believe we ought
to join together — all of Earth —
and get set to defend ourselves.”

There was silence. Coburn found
himself regarding the faces around
him with an unexpected trucu-
lence. Janice pressed his hand
warningly.

“All of Earth,” said the skipper
softly. “Hmmmm. You advise an
arrangement with all the earth.
. . . What are your politics, Mr.
Coburn? — No, let us say, what
are the political views of the ex-
tra-terrestrial creatures you tell

Tlin IXV.\DI2RS

141

US about? We have to know.”

Coburn seetlied. ” If you're sug-
gesting that this is a cold war
trick,” he said fiirioush', ” — if
they were faking it, they wouldn't
try tricks! They’d make war!
They’d try conquest!”

Coburn saw the stout Greek
general no<.lding to himself. But
the Skipper said suavely: ‘‘You
were with one of the creatures,
you say, up in the village of
Ndousa. Would you say he seemed
unfriendly to the Bulgarians?”

‘‘He was playing the part of an
Englishman,” snapped Coburn,
“trying to stop a raid, and mur-
ders, and possibly a war — all of
them unnecessary!”

“You don’t paint a frightening
picture,” complaineri the skipper
ironically. “ First you say we have
to fight him and his kind, and then
you imply that he was highly al-
truistic. What is the fact?”

“Dammit!” said Coburn. “1
hated him because he wasn’t hu-
man. It made my flesh crawl to
see him act so much like a man
when he wasn’t. But he made me
feel ashamed when I held a gun on
him and he proved he wasn’t hu-
man just so Janice — so Miss
Ames wouldn’t be afraid to drive
down to Salonika with me!”

‘‘So you have some . . .
friendly feelings toward him, eh? ”
the skipper said negligently.
“How will you get in touch with
his kind, by the way? If we should
ask you to? Of course you’ve got

it all iu'ranged? Just in case.”

Coburn knew that absolutely
nothing could be done with a tnan
who was trying to show oif his
shrewdness to his listening supe-
riors. He said disgustedly: “d'hat’s
the last straw. Go to hell I”

A loud-3|>eaker spoke suddenly.
Its Lone was auLhoritalive, and
there were little cracklings of
static in it from its passage across
the Atlantic.

“That line of questioning can
be dropped, Captain. Mr. Coburn,
did these aliens have any other
chances to kill you?”

“Plenty! ” snapped Coburn.
“And easy ones. One of them
came into my office as my secre-
tary. She could have killed me.
'Phe man who passed for Major
Pangalos could have shot us all
while we were unconscious. I
don’t know why they diiln’t get
the transport plane, and I domt
know what their scheme is. I’m
telling the facts. They’re contra-
dictory. I can’t help that. .\11 I
have are the facts.”

The loud-speaker said crisply:
“The attack on the transport
plane — any pilots present who
were in that fight?”

Someone at the back said :
“Yes, sir. Here.”

“How good was their ship?
Could it have been a guided mis-
sile? ”

“No, sir. No guided missile.
Whoever drove that ship was
right on board. And that ship was

142

AMAZING STORIES

p:oocL ll could climb as fast as we
could (live, and no human could
have taken the accelerations and
ihe turns it made. Whoever drove
it learned fast, t(X). He was clums>'
at the bcRinning, but he learnscl.
If we hadn’t gotten in ti lucky hit
he ’d've had us where he wanted
us in a little while more. Our
fil'lv-calibrcs just bounced off that
hull!"

The loud-speaker said curtly:
"If that impression is justified,
that’s the first business to lx;
taken u[). All but flying officers
are excused. Mr. Coburn can go,
too.”

'I'lierc was a stirring everywhere
in the room. Officers got up and
walked out. Cobum stood. The
Greek general came over to him
and patted him on the shoulder,
beaming. Janice went out with
him. They arrived on the carrier’s
deck. Tliis was the very earliest
hour of dawn, and the conference
had turned abruptly to a discus-
sion of arms and tactics as soon as
Washington realized that its
planes were inadequate for fight-
ing. Which was logical enough,
but Coburn was pretty sure it was
useless.

"If ainbody else in the world
feels as futile as 1 do," said Co-
burn l>itterly, "I feel sorry for
him!”

Janice said softly; "You’ve got
me.”

But that was less than complete
comfort. It is inborn in a man that

he needs to feel superior. No man
can feel pride before the woman
of his clioice while there is some-
thing stronger than himself. And
Coburn especially want(xl to feel
that pride just now.

There were very probably dis-
cussions of the important part of
what Coburn had reported, of
course, during the rest of the
morning. But there was much
more discussion of purelj' military-
measures. And of course there
were attempts to get military in-
telligence. Things were reported
in the sky near South Africa, and
from Honolulu — where nobody
would ignore what a radar said
again, especially the juiced-up
equipment just modified on or-
ders — and from other places.
Not all the reports were authentic,
of course. If there were any ob-
servations inside the Iron Curtain,
the Iron Curtain countries kept
them to themselves. Politics was
much more important than any-
thing else, in that part of the
world.

But Coburn need not have felt
as futile as he did. There was just
one really spet'tacular occurrence
in connection with tlie Invaders
that day, and it happened where
Coburn was. Almost certainly, it
happened because Coburn was
there. Though there is reason to
believe that the newspaper cam-
paign on shore, declaring that the
American fleet risked the lives of
all Naples by its mere presence.

THE IXVADICRS

143

had something to do w'ith it too.

It was very spectacular.

It happened just after midday
when the city and its harbor were
at their most glamorous. Coburn
and Janice were above when it
began. There was an ensign as-
signed to escort Coburn about
and keep an eye on him, and he
took them on a carefully edited
tour of the carrier. He took them
to the radar room which was not
secret any longer. He explained
reservedly that there was a new
tricked-up arrangeinciiL of radar
which it W'as believed would de-
lect turtle-shaped metal ships if
they appeared.

The radar room was manned, of
course. It always was, with a cold
war in being. Overhead, the bowl
cages of the radars moved rest-
lessly and rhythmically. Outside,
on deck, the huge elevator that
brought planes up from below
rose at the most deliberate of
peace-time rates.

The ensign said negligently,
pointing to the radar-screen:
“That little speck is a plane mak-
ing for the landing field on shore.
This other one is a plane coming
down from Genoa. You’d need a
good pair of binoculars to see it.
It's a good thirty-five miles away.”^

Just then, one of the two radar-
men on duty pushed a button and
snapped into a microphone: “Sirl
Radar-pip directly overhead! Does
not show on normal radar. Ele-

vation three hundred thousand
feet, descending rapidly.” His
voice cut off suddenly.

A metallic voice said : ‘ ‘ Relay ! ”

The ensign in charge of Coburn
and Janice seemed to freeze. The
radar man pressed a button, which
would relay that particular radar-
scrccn’s contents to the control
room for the whole ship. There
was a pause of seconds. Then bells
began to ring everywhere. They
were battle gongs.

There was a sensation of stirring
all over the ship. Doors closed
with soft hissings. Men ran furi-
ously. The gongs rang.

The ensign said politely: “I’ll
take you below now.”

He led them very swiftly to a
flight of stairs. There was a mon-
strous bellowing on the carrier’s
deck. Something dark went hurt-
ling down its length, with a tail of
pale-blue flame behind it. It van-
ished. Men were still running.
The elevator shot into full-speed
ascent. A plane rolled off it. The
elevator dropped.

An engine roared. Another. Yet
another. A second dark and deadly
thing flashed down the deck and
was gone. There was a rumbling.

The battle gongs cut off. The
rumbling below seemed to in-
crease. There was a curious vi-
bration. The ship moved. Coburn
could feel that it moved. It was
turning.

The ensign led them somewhere
and said: "This is a good place.

144

AM.AZING STORIES

You’d better stay right here.”

He ran. They heard him run-
ning. He was gone.

They were in a sort of ward
room — not of the morning con-
ference — • and there were port-
holes through which they could
look. Tlie city which was Naples
seemed to swing smoothly past
the ship. They .saw other ships. A
cruiser was under way with its
anchor still rising from the water.
It dripped mud and a sailor was
quite ridiculously playing a hose
on it. It ascended and swayed and
its shank went smoothly into the
hawse-hole. There were guns
swinging skyward. Some were
still covered by canvas hoods. The
hoods vanished before the cruiser
swung out of the porthole’s line of
vision.

A destroyer leaped across the
space they could see, full speed
ahead. The water below them be-
gan to move more rapidly. It
began to pass by with the speed of
ground past an express train.
And continually, monotonously,
there were roarings which cli-
maxed and died in the distance.

“The devil!” said Coburn.
“I’ve got to see this. They can’t
kill us for looking.”

He opened the door. Janice,
holding fast to his arm, followed
as he went down a passage. An-
other door. They were on the deck
side of the island which is the
superstructure of a carrier, and

they were well out of the way,
and everybody in sight was too
busy to notice them.

The elevator worked like the
piston of a pump. It vanished and
reappeared and a plane came off.
Men in vividly-colored suits
swarmed about it, and the eleva-
tor was descending again. The
plane roared, shot down the deck,
and was gone to form one of the
string of climbing objects which
grew smaller with incredible
swiftness as they shot for the sky.
Coburn saw another carrier. There
was a huge how-wave before it.
Destroyers ringed it, seeming to
bounce in the choppy sea made
by so many great ships moving so
close together.

The other carrier, too, was
shooting planes Into the air like
bullets from a gun. The American
Mediterranean tleet was putting
out to sea at emergency-speed,
getting every flying craft aloft
that could be gotten aAvay. A
cruiser swung a peculiar crane-
like arm, there was a puff of smoke
and a plane came into being. The
crane retracted. Another plane.
A third.

The fleet was out of the harbor,
speeding at thirty knots, with
destroyers weaving back and forth
at higher speeds still. There were
barges left behind in the harbor
with sailors in them, — shore-
parties or details who swore bit-
terly when they were left behind.
They surged up and down on the

THE INVADERS

145

mG14e of waves the fleet left
behind in its hasty departure.

On the fleet itself there was a
brisk tenseness as it sped away
from the land. Vesuvius still
loomed high, but the city dwin-
flled to n mere blinking mass of
white specks which were its build-
ings. The sea was aglitter with
sunlight reflected from the waves.
There was the smell of salt air.

Men began to take cryptic
measures for tlie future. They
strung cables across the deck
from side to side. Arresting gear
for planes which would presently
land.

Their special ensign found Co-
burn and Janice. “I’m supposed
to stay with you,” he explained
politely. “I thought I coiikl he of
use. I ’m really attached to another
ship, but I was on board because
of the hassle last night.’’

Coburn said: “This would be
invader stuff, wouldn’t it?’’

The ensign shrugged. “Appar-
ently. You heard what the radar
said. Something at three hundred
thousand feet, descending rapidly.
It’s not a human-built ship. Any-
way, we’ve sent up all our planes.
Jets will meet it first, at fifty
thousand. If It gets through them
there are . . . other measures,
of course.”

“This one beats me!” said Co-
burn. “Why?”

The ensign shrugged again.
“They tried for you last night.”

“Tm not that important, to

them or anybody else. Or am I?”

“I wouldn’t know,” said the
ensign.

“I don’t know anything 1
haven’t told,” said Coburn grimly,
“and the creatures can’t suppress
any information by killing me
now. Anyhow, if they’d wanted to
they'd have done it.”

A dull, faint sound came from
high overhead. Coburn stepped
out from under the shelter of the
upper works of the island. He
stared up into the sky. He saw a
lurid spot of blue-white flame. He
saw others. He realized that all
the sky was interlaced with con-
trails — vapor-trails of jet-planes
far up out of sight. But th^y were
fine threads. The jets were up very
high indeed. The pin-points of
flame were explosions.

“Using wing-rockets,” said the
ensign hungrily, “since fifty-cali-
bres did no good last night, until
one made a lucky hit. Rockets
witli proximity fuses. Our jets
don’t carry cannon.”

There were more explosions.
There was a bright glint of rc-
IlecLed sunshine. Jt was momen-
tary, but Coburn knew that it
was from a fiat, bright space-ship,
which had tilted in some mon-
strously abrupt maneuver, and
the almost vertical sunshine shone
down from its surface.

The ensign said in a very quiet
voice : ‘ ‘ The fight’s coming lower.”

There was a crashing thump in
the air. A battleship was firing

146

AMAZING STORIES

eight-inch guns almost straight
up. Other guns began.

Guns began to fire on the car-
rier, too, below the deck and be-
yond it. Concussion waves beat
at Coburn’s body. He thrust
Janice behind him to shield her,
but there could be no shielding.

I'he air was filled with barkings
and snarlings and the unbelieva-
bly abrupt roar of heavy guns.
The carrier swerved, so swiftly
that it tilted and swerved again.
The other ships of the fleet broke
their straight-away formation and
began to move in bewildering
patterns. The blue sea was criss-
crossed „with wakes. Once a de-
stroyer seemed to slide almost
under the bow of the carrier. The
destroyer appeared unharmed on
the other side, its guns all pointed
skyward and emitting seemingly
continiiouB blasts of flame and
thunder.

The ensign grabbed Coburn’s
shoulder and pointed, his hands
shaking.

There was the Invader ship. It
was exactly as Coburn had known
it would be. It was tiny. It seemed
hardly larger than some of the
planes that swooped at it. But the
planes were drawing back now.
'I'he sliiiiing metal thing was no
more than two thousand feet up
and it was moving in erratic, un-
predictable darts and dashes here
and there, like a dragon-fly’s
movements, but a hundred times

more swift. Proximity-fused shells
burst everywhere about it. It
burst through a still-expanding
puff of explosive smoke, darted
down a hundred feet, and took a
zig-zag course of such violent and
angular changes of position that it
looked more like a streak of metal
lightning than anything else.

It was down to a thousand feet.
It shot toward the fleet at a speed
which was literally that of a
projectile. It angled off to one side
and back, and suddenly dropped
again and plunged crazily through
the maze of ships from one end to
the other, no more than fifty feet
above the water and with geysers
of up-flung sea all about it from
the shells that missed.

Then it sped away with a veloc-
ity which simply was not con-
ceivable. It was the speed of a
cannonball. It was headed straight
toward a distant, stubby, drag-
gled trainp-steaiiier which plod-
ded toward the Bay of Naples.

It rose a little as it flew. And
then it checked, in mid-air. It
hung above the dumpy freighter,
and there were salvoes of all the
guns in the fleet. But at the
Hashes it shot skyward. When
the shells arrived and burst, it
was gone.

It could still be sighted as a
spark of sunlight shooting for the
heavens. Jets roared toward it. It
vanished.

Coburn heard the ensign saying
in a flat voice: “If that wasn’t

THE TMVADERS

147

accelerating at fifteen Gs, I never
saw a ship. If it wasn’t acceler-
ating at fifteen Gs . .

And that was all. There was
nothing else to shoot at. There
was nothing else to do. Jets
ranged widely, looking for some-
thing that would offer battle, but
the radars said that the metal
ship had gone up to three hundred
miles and then headed west and
out of radar range. There had
not been time for the French to set
up paired radar-beam outfits any-
how, so they couldn’t spot it, and
in any case its course seemed to be
toward northern Spain, where
there was no radar worth men-
tioning.

Presently somebody noticed the
dingy, stubby, draggled tramp
steamer over which the Invaders’
craft had hovered. It was no
longer on course. It had turned
sidewise and wallowed heavily.
Its bow pointed successively to
every point of the compass.

It looked had. Salvos of the
heaviest projectiles in the Fleet
had been fired to explode a thou-
sand feet above it. Perhaps --

A destroyer went racing to see.
An it drew near — Coburn learned
this later — it saw a man’s body
hanging in a sagging heap over
the railing of its bridge. There
was nobody visible at the wheel.
There were four men lying on its
deck, motionless.

The skipper of the destroyer
went cold. He brought his ship

closer. It was not big, this tramp.
Maybe two thousand tons. It was
low in the water. It swayed and
surged and wallowed and rolled.

Men from the destroyer man-
aged to board it. It was completely
unharmed. They found one small
sign of the explosions overhead.
One fragment of an exploded shell
had fallen on board, doing no
damage.

Even the crew was unharmed.
But every man was asleep. Each
one slumbered heavily. Each
breathed stertoriously. They could
not be awakened. They would
need oxygen to bring them to.

A party from the destroyer
went on board to bring the .ship
into harbor. The officer in charge
tried to find out the ship’s name.

There was not a document to
be found to show what the ship’s
name was or where it had come
from or what it carried as cargo.
That was strange. The officer
looked in the pockets of the two
men in the wheel house. There was
not a single identifying object on
either of them. He grew disturbed.
He made a really thorough search.
Every sleeping man was abso-
lutely anonymous. Then — still
on the way to harbor — a really
fine- tooth-comb examinatiou of
the ship began.

Somebody’s radium-dial waLch
began to glow brightly. The
searchers looked at each other and
went pale. They hunted fraii-

148

AMAZING STORIES

tically, fear making them clumsy.

They found it. Rather — they
found them.

The stubby tramp had an ade-
quate if rather clumsy atomic
bomb in each of its two holds.
The lading of the ship was of ma-
terials which — according to the-
ory — should be detonated in
atomic explosion if an atomic
bomb went off nearby. Otherwise
they could not be detonated.

The anonymous tramp-steamer
had been headed for the harbor of
Naples, whose newspapers — at
least those of a- certain political
party — had been screaming of
the danger of an atomic explosion
while American warships were
anchored there.

It was not likely that two atom
bombs and a shipload of valuable
secondary atomic explosive had
been put oji a carefully najueless
ship just to be taken for a ride. If
this ship had anchored among
the American fleet and if it had
exploded in the Bay of Na-
ples . . .

The prophecies of a certain
political party would seem to have
been fulfilled. The American ships
would be destroyed. Naples itself
would be destroyed. And it would
have ap|>eared that Europeans
who loved the great United States
had made a mistake.

It was, odd, though, that this
ship was the only one that the In-
vaders’ flying craft had struck
with its peculiar weapon.

We humans are rational beings,
but we are not often reasonable.
Those who more or less handle us
in masses have to take account of
that fact. It could not be ad-
mitted that the fleet had had a
fight with a ship piloted by In-
vaders from another solar system.
It would produce a wild panic,
beside which even a war would be
relatively harmless. So the ad-
miral of the Mediterranean fleet
composed an order commending
his men warmly for their per-
formance ill an unrehearsed firing-
drill. Their target had been — so
the order said — a new type of
guided missile recently developed
by hush-hush agencies of the De-
fense Department. The admiral
was pleased and proud, and
happy. . . .

It was an excellent order, but
it wasn't true. The admiral wasn't
happy. Not after battle photo-
graphs were developed and he
could see how the alien ship had
dodged rockets with perfect ease,
and had actually taken a five-
inch shell, which exploded on
impact, without a particle of
damage.

On the carrier, the Greek gen-
eral said mildly to Coburn that
the Invaders had used their power
very strangely. After stopping
an invasion of Greece, they had
prevented an atomic-bomb ex-
plosion which would have killed

THE INVADERS

149

some hundreds of thousands of
people. And it was strange that
the turtle-shaped ship that had
att.acked the air transport was so
clumsily handled as compared
with this similar craft which had
zestfully dodged all the missiles a
fleet could throw at it.

Coburn thought hard. “I think
I see,” he said slowly. “You
mean, they’re here and they know
all they need to know. But instead
of coming out into the open,
they’re making governments rec-
ognize their existence. They're
letting the rulers of Earth know
they can't be resisted. But we did
knock off one of their ships last
night ! ”

The Greek general pointedly
said nothing. Coburn caught his
meaning. The fleet, firing point-
blank, had not destroyed its tar-
get. 'rheship last night had seemed
to fall into a cloud bank and ex-
plode. But nobody had seen it
blow up. Maybe it hadn’t.

“Humoring us!” realized Co-
burn. “They don’t want to de-
stroy our civilization, so they'll
humor us. But they want our
governments to know that they
can do as they please. If our gov-
ernments know we can't resist,
they think we'll surrender. But
they're wrong.”

The Greek general looked at
him enigmatically.

“We’ve still got one trick left,”
said Coburn. “Atomic bombs.
And if they fail, we can still gel

killed fighting them another way."

There was a heavy, droning
noise far away. It increased and
drew nearer. It was a multi-
engined plane which came from
the west and settled down, and
hovered over the water and
touched and instantly created a
spreading wake of foam.

The fleet was back at anchor
then. It was enclosed in the most
beautiful combination of city and
scene that exists anywhere. Be-
yond the city the blunted cone of
V^esiivius rose. In the city, news-
paper vendors shrilly hawked de-
mnirialions of the Anieriran ships
because of the danger that their
atom bombs might explode. Well
outside the harbor, a Navy crew
of experts worked to make quite
impossible the detonation of
atomic bombs in a stubby tramp-
steamer which had — plausibly,
at least — been sent to make
those same newspapers’ prophe-
cies of disaster come true.

A long, long time passed, while
consultations took place to which
Coburn was not invited. Then a
messenger led him to the w’ard-
room of the previous conference.
He recognized the men who had
landed by seaplane a wliile since.
One was a cabinet member from
Washington. There was someone
of at least equal importance from
London, j)icked up en route. 'I’lierc
were generals and admirals. Tlie
service officers looked at Coburn

150

.\NfAZING STORIES

with s(^methins like accusation in
tlicir eyes. He was the means by
which they had come to realize
tlu'ir impotence. The Greek ,a:on-
eral sat quietly in the rear.

“Mr. Coburn,” said the Sec-
retary from Washington. "We’ve
been canvassing the situation. It
seems tliat we simply are not pre-
pared to offer effective resistance

— not yet — to the . . . invad-
ers you tell us about. We know of
no reason why this entire fleet
could not have been disabled as
effectively as the tramp-steamer
offshore. You know about that
ship?”

Coburn nodded. The Greek
general had told him. The Secre-
tary went on painfully: “Now,
the phenomena we have to as-
cribe to Invaders fall into two
categories. One is the category of
their action against the Bulgarian
raiding force, and today tlie pre-
vention of the cold-war murder of
some hundreds of thousands of
people. That category suggests
that they are prepared — on terms

— to be amiable. A point in their
favor.”

Coburn set his lips.

“The other group of events
simply points you out and builds
you up as a person of importance
to these Invaders. You seem to be
extremely important to them.
They doubtless could have killed
you. They did not. What they did
do was bring you forward to offi-
cial attention. Presumably they

had a realistic motive in this."

“I don't know what it could
be,” said Coburu coldly. “ 1
l)luiKlere(l into one alTair. I figured
out a way to detect them. 1 hap-
pened to be the means by which
they were proved to exist. That’s
all. It was an accident.”

The Secretary looked skeptical.
“Your discoveries were remark-
ably . . . apt. And it does seem
clear that they made the appear-
ance of hunting you, while going
to some pains not to catch > ou.
Mr. Coburn, how can we make
contact with them?”

Coburn wanted to swear furi-
ously. He was still being con-
sidered a traitor. Only they were
trying to make use of his treason.

“1 have no idea,” he said
grimly.

“What do they want?”

“I would say — Earth,” he
said grimly.

“You deny that you are an
authorized intermediary for
them?”

“Absolutely,” said Coburn.
There was silence. The Greek
general spoke mildly from the
back of the room. He said in his
difficult English that Coburn's
personal motives did not matter.
But if the Invaders had picked
him out as especially important,
it was possible that they felt him
especially qualified to talk to
them. The question was, would he
try to make contact with them?

The Secretary looked pained,

THE INVADERS

151

but he turned to Coburn. “Mr.
Coburn?”

Coburn said, “ I’ve no idea how
to set about it, but I’ll try on one
condition. There’s one thing we
haven't tried against them. Set
up an atom-bomb booby-trap,' and
I'll sit on it. If they try to contact
me, you can either listen in or try
to blow them up, and me with
them!”

There was buzzing comment.
Perhaps — Coburn’s nails bit into
his palms when this was suggested
— - perhaps this was a proposal to
let the Invaders examine an
atomic bomb, Anierican-style. It
was said in earnest simplicity.
But somebody pointed out that a
race which could travel between
the stars and had ships such as
the Mediterranean fleet had tried
to shoot down, would probably
find American atomic bombs
rather primitive. Still — -

The Greek general again spoke
mildly. If the Invaders were to be
made to realize that Coburn was
trying to contact them, he should
return to Greece. He should visi-
bly take up residence where he
could be approached. He should,
in fact, put himself completely
at the mercy of the Invaders.

“Ostensibly,” agreed the Sec-
retary.

The Greek general then said
diffidently that he had a small
villa some twenty miles from the
suburbs of Salonika. The prevail-

ing winds were such that if an
atomic explosion occurred there,
it would not endanger anybody.
He offered it.

“I’ll live there,” asked Coburn
coldly, “and wait for them to
come to me? I’ll have microphones
all about so that every word that’s
said will he relayed to your re-
corders? And there'll be a bomb
somewhere about that you can set
off by remote control? Is that the
idea?”

Then Janice spoke up. And Co-
burn flared into anger against her.
But she was firm. Coburn saw the
Gn^ek ge,neral smiling slyly.

They left the conference while
the decision was made. And they
were in private, and Janice talked
to him. I'here are methods of ar-
gument against which a man is
hopeless. She used them. She
said that she, not Coburn, might
be the person the Invaders might
have wanted to take out of circu-
lation, because she might have
noticed something important she
hadn’t realized yet. When Coburn
pointed out that he’d be living
over an atomic bomb, triggered to
be set off from a hundred miles
away, she demanded fiercely to
know if he realized how she’d feel
if she weren’t there to. . . .

Next day an aircraft carrier
put out of Naples with an escort
of destroyers. It traveled at full
speed down the toe of Italy's
boot, through the straits of Mes-
sina, across the Adriatic, and

152

AMAZING STORIES

rounded the end of Greece and
went streaking night and day for
Salonika. Special technicians sent
by plane beat her time by days.
The Greek general was there well
ahead. And he expansively super-
vised while his inherited, isolated
vill^ was prepared for the recep-
tion of Invaders — and Coburn
and Janice.

And Coburn and Janice were
married. It was an impressive
wedding, because it was desirable
for the Invaders to know about it.
It was brilliantly military with
uniforms and glittering decora-
tions and iiuuimerable iniportant
people whom neither of them
knew or cared about.

It it had been anybody else's
wedding Coburn would have
fouml it uasixjakably dreary. The
only person present whom he
knew beside Janice was Hallen.
He acted as groomsman, with the
air of someone walking on eggs.
After it was over he shook hands
with a manner of tremendous re-
lief.

“Maybe I’ll brag about ttiis
some day,” he told Coburn un-
easily. “But right now I’m scared
to death. What do you two really
expect to happen?”

Janice smiled at him. “Why,”
she said, “we expect to live hap-
pily ever after.”

“Oh yes,” said Hallen uncom-
fortably. “But that wasn’t just
what I had in mind.”

The world wagged on. 'I'he
newspapers knew nothing about
super-secret top-level worries.
There was not a single newsstory
printed anywhere suggesting an
invasion of Earth from outer
space. There were a few more
Flying Saucer 5’arns than normal,
and it was beginning to transpire
that an unusual number of im-
portant people were sick, or on
vacation, or otherwise out of con-
tact with the world. But, actually,
not one of the events in which Co-
burn and Janice had been con-
cerned reached the state of being
news. Even the shooting off the
Ray of Naples was explained as
an emergency drill.

Quietly, a good many things
happened. Cryptic orders passed
around, and oxygen tanks were
accumulated in military posts.
Hunter and Mereid guided mis-
siles were set up as standard equip-
ment in a number of brand-new
places. They were loaded for bear.
-But days went by, and nothing
happened. Nothing at all. But
officialdom was not at ease.

If anything — while the wide
world went happily about its
business — really high-level offi-
cialdom grew more unhappy day
by day. Coburn and Janice Hew
back to Salonika. They went in
a Navy plane with a hghter plane
escort. They landed at the Salon-
ika airport, and the Greek general

THE INVADERS

153

was among those who greeted
them.

He took them out to the villa
he'd placed at the disposal of
high authority for their use. He
displayed it proudly. There was
absolutely no sign that it had
been touched by anybody since
its original builders had finished
with it two-hundred-odd years
before. The American officer who
had wired it, though — he looked
as if he were short a week’s .sleep
— showed them how anywhere on
the grounds or in the house they
wouki need only to speak a code-
word and they’d instantly be
answered.

There were servants, and the
Greek general took Coburn aside
and assured him that there was
one room which absolutely was
not wired for sound. He named it.

So they took up a relatively
normal way of life. Sometimes
they decided that it would be
pleasant to drive in to Salonika.
They mentioned it. and went out
and got in the car that went with
the villa. Oddly, there was alwaj’s
some aircraft lazying about over-
head by the time they were out of
the gate. I'hey always returned
before sunset. And sometimes they
swam in the water before the
villa’s door. Then, also, they were
careful to be back on solid ground
before sunset. That was so their
guards out on the water wouldn't
have to worry.

But it was a nagging and an un-

happy business to know that they
were watched and overheard ev-
erywliere save in that one unwired
room. It could have made for ten-
sion between tlicm. But there was
another thought to hold them
together. This was the knowledge
that they were literally living on
top of a bomb. If an Invader’s
flying ship descended at the villa,
everything that happened would
be heard and seen by microphones
anti concealed television cameras.
If the Invaders were too arrogant,
or if they were arbitrary, there
would be a test to see if their ship
could exist in the heart of an atom-
bomb explosion.

Coburn and Janice, then, were
hapr)y after a fashion. But no-
body could call their situation
resthil.

They had very few visitors.
The Greek general came out me-
ticulously every day. Hallen came
out once, but he knew about the
atomic bomb. He didn’t stay long.
When they’d been in residence a
week, the General telephoned
zestfully that he was going to
bring out some company. His
English was so mangled and ob-
scure that Coburn wondered cyni-
cally if whoever listened to their
tapped telephone could under-
stand him. But, said the General
in high good humor, he was play-
ing a good joke. He had hunted
up Helena, who was Coburn’s
secretary, and he had also invited

154

AMAZING STORIES

Dillon to pay a visit to some
charming people he knew. It
would be a great joke to sec Dil-
lon's face.

I'here was a fire in the living
room that night. The Greek serv-
ants had made it, and Coburn
thought grimly that they were
braver men and women than he'd
have been. Tliey didn’t have to
risk their lives. They could have
refused this particular sccrct-
service assignment. But they
hadn’t.

A voice spoke from the living-
room ceiling, a clipped American
voice. “Mr. Coburn, a car is
coming."

That was standard. When the
General arrived ; when the occa-
sional delivery of telephoned-for
supplies came; on the one occa-
sion when a peddler on foot had
entered the ground. It lacked
something of being the perfect
atmosphere for a honeymoon, but
it was the way things were.

Presently there were headlights
outside. 'I'he Greek butler went to
greet the guests. Coburn and
Janice heard voices. The General
was in uproarious good humor.
He came in babbling completely
Lincomprehensible English.

There was Helena. She smiled
warmly at Coburn. She went at
once to Janice. “How do you
do?" slie said in her prettily ac-
cented English. “I have missed
not working for your husband, but
this is my fianc6!”

And Janice shook hands with a
slick-haired young Greek who
looked pleasant enough, but did
not seem to her as remarkable as
Coburn.

Then Dillon stared at Coburn.

“The devil ! " he said, with every
evidence of indignation. “This is
the chap — "

The General roared, and Co-
burn said awkwardly : “ I owe you
an apology, and the privilege of a
poke in the nose besides. But it
was a situation — I was in a
state — "

Then the General howled with
laughter. Helena laughed. Her
fianc^ laughed. And Dillon grinned
amusedly at Coburn.

“My dear fellow!" said Dillon.
“We are the guests this whole
villa was set up to receive! The
last time I saw you was in Naousa,
and the last time Helena saw you
you stuck pins in her, and — "

Coburn stiffened. He went
slowly pale.

“I — see! You’re the foam-suit
people, eh?" Then he looked with
hot passion at the General.
“You!" he said grimly. “You I
didn’t suspect. You’ve made fools
of all of us, I think.”

The General said something ob-
scure which could have been a
proverb. It was to the effect that
nobody could tell a fat man was
cross-eyed when he laughed.

"Yes," said Dillon beaming.
“He is fat. So his eyes don’t look

THK invaders

155

like they’re different. You have to
see past his cheeks and eyebrows.
That's how he passed muster.
And he slept very soundly after
the airport affair.”

Coburn felt a sort of sick hor-
ror- The General had passed as a
man, and he’d loaned this villa,
and he knew all about the in-
stallation of the atomic bomb.
. . . Then Coburn looked through
a doorway and there was his
Greek butler standing in readiness
with a submachinc-gun in his
hands.

"I take it this is an official
call,” said Coburn steadily. ‘‘In
that case you know we're over-
heard — or did the General can-
cel that? ”

‘‘Oh, yes!” said Dillon. “We
know all about the trap we’ve
walked into. But we'd decided
that the time had come to appear
in the ()pt‘n anyhow. You people
are very much like us, Inciden-
tally. Apparently there’s only
one real way that a truly rational
brain can work. And we and you
Earth ])eople both have it. May
we sit down? ”

Janice said: “By all means!”

Helena sat, with an absolutely
human gesture of spreading her
skirt beside her. The General
plumped into a chair and chuc-
kled. The slick-haired young man
politely offered Janice a cigarette
and lighted Helena’s for her.
Dillon leaned against the mantel
above the fire.

“Well?” said Coburn harshly.
“You can state your terms. What
do you want and what do you
propose to do to get it?”

Dillon shook his head. He took
a deep breath. “1 want you to
listen, Coburn. I know about the
atom bomb planted somewhere
around, and I know I'm talking
for my life. You know we aren’t
natives of Earth. You’ve guessed
that we come from a long way off.
We do. Now — we found out the
trick of space travel some time
ago. You’re quite welcome to il.
We found it, and we started ex-
ploring. We’ve been in space,
you might sa>', just about two of
your centuries. You’re the only
other civilized race wc’vc found.
Tliat’s point one.”

Coburn fumbled in his pocket.
He found a cigarette. Dillon held
a match. Coburn started, and then
accepted it.

“Go on.” He added, “There’s a
television camera relaying this,
by the way. Did you know?”

“Yes, 1 know,” said Dillon.
“Now, having about two cen-
turies the start of you, we have a
few tricks \’ou haven’t found out
yet. For one thing, we understand
ourselves, and you, better than
you do. We’ve some technical
gadgets you haven’t happened on
yet. However, it’s entirely possi-
ble for you to easily kill the four
of us here tonight. If you do
you do. But there are others of
our race here. That’s point two.”

156

.^MAZING STORIES

“Now come the threats and de-
mands/' said Coburn.

“Perhaps/' But Dillon secmetl
to licsilate. “Dammit, Coburn,
you’re a reasonable man. Try to
think like us a moment. What
would you do if you’d started to
explore space and came tipnn a
civilized race, as we have?”

Coburn said formidably, “We’d
study them and try to make
friciuls.”

“ In that order,” said Dillon
instant!>’. “That’s what weVe
tricxl to do. We disguised our-
selves as you because we wanted
to learn how to make friends be-
fore we tried. But what did we

find, Coburn? What’s your guess?”

“You name it!” said Coburn.

“You Earth people,” said Dil-
lon, “are at a turning-point in
your history. Either you solve
your problems and keep on climb-
ing. or you’ll blast your civiliza-
tion down to somewhere near a
caveman level and have to start
all over again. You know what I
mean. Our two more spectacular
interferences dealt with it.”

“The Iron Curtain,” said Co-
burn. “Yes. But what’s that got
to do with you? It’s none of your
business. That's ours.”

“But it is ours,” said Dillon

"City Feller?”

TIIF. INVADERS

157

urgently. “Don't yon see, ('o-
burn!’’ Vou've a civilization nearly
as advanced as ours. If we can
make friends, we can do each
other an infinite lot of gCHxl. We
can I'oinplement etu'h other. We
laii have a most valuable trade,
not only in goods, but itt what you
call human values and we call
something else. We’d like to start
that trade.

“But you’re desperately clo.se
to sma.shing things. So we’ve had
to rush things. We did stop that
Bulgarian raid. When you proved
too sharp to be fooled, we grew
hopeful. Here might be our enter-
ing wetlge. We hammered at you.
We managed to make your {X'ople
suspicious that there might be
something in what you said. We
proved it. It was rugged for you,
but we had to let you people force
us into the open. If we’ii inarched
out shyly with roses in our hair —
what would you have thought?”

Coburn said doggedly: “I'm
still waiting for the terms. What
do you want? ”

The General stiid something
plaintive from his chair. It was to
the efTect that Coburn still be-
lievctl that li^rth wa.s in danger of
conquest from space.

“Look!” said Dillon irritalily.
“If you jKople had found the trick
of space travel first, and you’d
found us, would you have tried to
conquer us? Considering tliat
we’re civilized?”

Coburn said coldly, “No. Not

my [larticular i)eo]iIi‘. We know
you can't c<inquer a civilized race.
You can exterminate them, or
you can break them down to
savagery, liiit you can't <-onquer
them. \'()U can't conquer us!”

Then Dillon said very pain-
stakingU : “ But we don't want to
conquer \‘ou. IZven your friends
inside the Iron Curtain know that
the only way to conquer a country
is to .smash it down to savagery.
They’ve tlone that over and over
for conque.st. But what the devil
good would savages be to us? We
want someone to trade with. We
can't trade with savages. We want
someone to gain something from.
What have savages to offer us?
A planet? Good Heavens, man!
We’ve already found si.xty i)lanets
for colonies, much better for us
than IZanh. Your gravity here is
. . . well, it’s sickeningly low.”

“What do >'ou want tlien?”

“We want to be friends,” said
Dillon. “We'll gain by it exactly
what >’ou IZarth pcoijle gained
when you traded freely among
yourselves, before blot'ked cur-
rencies and quotas and such non-
sense strangled trade. We’ll gain
what you gained when you'd
stopped having every city a fort
and every village guardc*d liy tlie
castle of its lord. Look, Coburn:
we've got people inside the Iron
C’urtain. We’ll keep them there.
You won’t he able to disband your
armies, but we can promise you
won't have to use them - bc-

158

AMAZINO STOkTKS

<*ause \vu cerlaliily won’t help you
chaps fight among yourselves.
We’ll give you one of our ships to
study and work on. Rut we won’t
give you our arms. You’ll have
your moon in a year and your
whole solar system in a decade.
You’ll trade with us from the time
yon cltoose, and you’ll be roaming
space when you can grasp the
trick of It. Man, you can’t refuse.
You're too near to certain smash-
ing of your civilization, and we
ran help you to avoid it. Think
what we’re offering.”

Then Coburn said grimly: “And
if we don’t like the bargain? What
if we refuse?”

Dillon carefully put the ash
from his cigarette into an ashtray.
‘‘If you won’t be our friends,” he
said with some distaste, “we can't
gain anything useful from you.
We don't want you as slaves.
You’d 1)0 no good to us. For that
reason we can’t get anything wc
want from the Iron Curtain peo-
ple. They’ve nothing to offer
that we can use. So our ultimatum
is — make friends or we go away
and leave you alone. Take it or
leave it!”

There was a dead, absolute
silence. After a long time Coburn
said : ” Altruism?”

Dillon grinned. ' ‘ Enlightened
self-interest. Common sense!”

There was a clicking in the ceil-
ing. A metallic voice said: ‘‘Mr.
Coburn, the conversation just

overheard and recorded has to be
discussed in detail on high dip-
lomatic levels. It will take time
foi' ronfei'ences — derisions — ar-
rangements. Assuming that youi*
guests are acting in good faith,
they have safe conduct from the
villa. Their offer is very attractive,
but it will have to be passed on at
high polic>’-making levels.”

Dillon said pleasantly, to the
ceiling; ‘‘Yes. And you’ve got to
keep it from being public, of
course, until your space ships can
discover us somewhere. It will
have to he hantlled diplomatically,
so > our people are back of a grand
offer to make friends when it
happens.” He added wryly," We’re
very much alike, really. Coburn’s
very much like us. That's why
if it’s all right with you — you
can arrange for him to be our
point of confidential contact. We’ll
keep in touch with him.”

The ceiling did not reply. Dillon
waited, then shrugged. The Greek
general spoke. He said that since
they had come so far out from
Salonika, it was too early to leave*
again. It might be a good idea to
have a party. Some music would
be an excellent thing. He said he
liked Earth music very much.

A long time later Janice and
Coburn w'ere alone in the one room
of the house which was not wired
for sound. There were no micro-
phones here.

Coburn said reluctantly in the
15Q

THE INVADERS

darkness: “It sounds sensible all
right. Maybe it’s true. But it feels
queer to think of it. . .

Janice pressed closer to him and
whispered in his ear: “I made
friends with that girl who passed
for Helena. I like her. She says
we’ll be invited to make a trip to
their planet. They can do some-
thing about the gravity. And she
says she’s really going to be mar-
ried to the . . . person who was

with her. . . She hesitated.
“She showed me what they really
look like when they’re not dis-
guised as us."

Coburn put his arm around her
and smiled gently. “Well? Want
to tell me?”

Janice caught her breath. “I — ■
I could have cried. . . . The poor
thing — to look like that. I’m
glad I look like I do. For you,
darling. For you.”

FROM the January 1850 issue of Scientific American: “It has been truly ob-
served that the progress of science for the last century has outstripp>ed all
calculation, and left even the wildest imagination far in the rear. Is this
astonishing progress to continue; and will nature in years to come yield to
man her long treasured secrets as willingly as she dues now? If so, what
mortal shall venture to limit the boundaries of human knowledge, or the
power of human skill? ‘There is indeed,’ says a late writer, ‘no reason why
the earth should not supply us with water hot, as well as cold, anymore,
perhaps, than why mechanical attrition or compressed air, should not keep
us warm, and the electric fluid light our streets and houses, convey our mes-
sages, set our clocks going, and ix)ssibly also perform some of our hard
work.’”

here’s one place where the law of mathematics doesn’t hold true: 2 plus 2
equals 35^. When it’s two quarts of water mixed with two ejuarts of alcohol.
And the reason: Ethyl alcohol contracts in volume when you mix it with
water, due to the reduction of the molecular interstices of the two sub-
stances in the chemical combination.

160

AMAZING STORIES

MARS CONFIDENTIAL
{Continued from page 19)

Interstellar s{>ace: Too much nothing
at all, filled with rockets, flying
saucers, advanced civilizations,
and discarded copies of Amazing
' Stories.

Mars:<A candj’ bar.

Pinto: A kind of water.

Ray gtms: Small things that go zap.

Time machine: A machine that carries
you hack to yesterday and into
next >ear. Also, an alarm clock.

Time warp: The hole in time the time
machine goes through to roach
another time. A hole in nothing.

Terra: Another natne for Earth. It
comes from terra firma or some-
thing like that.

Hyperdrive: The motor that is used to
drive a space ship faster than the
s|>ced of light. Invented by sci-
ence-fiction writers but not yet
patented.

Ether: The upper reaches of space and
whatever fills them. Also, an
anaesthetic.

Luna: Another name for the Moon.
Formerly a park in Coney Is-
land.

PROJECT NIGHTMARE
{Continued from page 39)

Reynolds looked at the woman
with him. “Dorothy Hrentano!’'

“Dorothy Smith now.”

He controlled his trembling and
explained what was required. She
nodded. “ I figured that out on
the plane. Got a pencil? Take this:
St. Louis — a river warehouse
with a sign reading ‘Bartlett &
Sons. Jobbers’. Look in the loft.
And Houston — no, tliey got
that one. Baltimore — it’s in a
ship at tlie docks, the S. S. Gold
Coast. What other cities? I’ve
wasted time feeling around where
there was nothing to find.’’

Reynolds was already shouting
for Washington to answer.

Grandma Wilkins was last to
be relieved; Dorothy located one
in the Potomac — and Mrs. Wil-

kins told her sharply to keep try-
ing. There were four bombs in
Washington, which Mrs. Wilkins
had known all along. Dorothy
found them in eleven minutes.

Three hours later Reynolds
showed up in the club me.ssroom,
not having been able to sleep.
Several of his people were eating
and listening to the radio blast
about our raid on Russia. He gave
it a wide berth; they could blast
Omsk and Tomsk and Minsk and
Pinsk; today he didn't care. He
was sipping milk and thinking
that he would never drink coffee
again when Captain Mikeler bent
over Ills table. “The General
wants you. Hurry!”

“Why?”

“I said, ‘Hurry!’ Where’s
161

Grandma Wilkins — oh — see her.
Who is Mrs. Dorothy Smith?”

Reynolds looked around. “She’s
with Mrs. Wilkins.”

Mikelcr rushed them to Han-
by’s office. Hanby merely said,
‘‘Sit over there. And you ladies,
too. Stay In focus.”

Reynolds found himself looking
into a television screen at the
President of the United States.
He looked as weary as Reynolds
felt, but he turned on his smile.
“You arc Doctor Reynolds?”

“Yes, Mr. President!”

“These ladies are Mrs. Wilkins
and Mrs. Smith?”

“Yes, sir.”

The President said quietly,

“You three and your colleagues
will be thanked by the Republic.
And by me, for myself. But that
must wait. Mrs. Smith, there arc
more bombs — in Russia. Could
your strange gift find them
there?”

“Why, I don’t — I can tryl”

“Mrs. Wilkins, could you set
off those Russian bombs while
they are still far away?”

Incredibly, she was still bright-
eyed and chipper. “Why, Mr.
President!”

" Can you? ”

Slie got a far-away look. “ Doro-
thy and I had better have a quiet
room somewhere. And I’d like a
pot of tea. .A large pot.”

TURNOVER POINT
{Continued from page 75)

still at last. A wild-cycd thing
that may once have been a man
stared In horror at the fading light
of the yellow star far astern.

It held taken Ivane time to un-
derstand what had happened to
him, and now it was too late.
Space had taken care of its own.
The air in The Luck was growing
foul and the food was gone.
Death hung in the fetid atmos-
phere of the tiny control room.

'I'he old man — the boy — the
money. They all seemed to spin in
a narrowing circle. Kane wanted
suddenly to shriek with laughter.
A circle. The turnover circle. The
full circle that the old man had

made instead of the proper half-
turn of a turnover. Three hundred
sixty degrees Instead of one hun-
dretl eighty. Three hundred sixty
degrees to leave the nose of 'Die
Luck pointing outward toward the
stars, instead of properly toward
the Sun. A full circle to i)ile G
on G until the Jovian moons were
missed, and the Uranian moons
and Triton, too. Ad Astra per
Ardua. . . .

With the last fragment of his
failing sanity, Kane thought of
how Pop Ganlon and the l)oy must
be laughing. He was still thinking
that as the long night closed in
around him.

162

PRINTED IN U.S.A.

COMING AT YOU!

THE ROLLER COASTER!— a story to Ch.i-

lenge Your Imagination! Author Alfred Bester
^ sees our world as a vehicle of entertainment, a

JINN AND TONIC

BY WILLIAM P. MCGIVERN

A sexy Jinn escapes his bottle after 12 thoHsand
years — here’s the “slightly mad” story of the
escapades that follow. A Reggie Van Alexander
riot of fantasy!

ALSO tn THIS issue.

ISAAC ASIMOV
JOHN WYNDHAM

ESTHER CARLSON
OTHERS—

A BEST SELLER AT ALL NEWSSTANDS— ON SALE MARCH 10

Once America Is able to put aloft a man-made satellite
as pictured above, no war-like move anywhere behind the
Iron Curtain can escape detection. With the machines and
men it supports, this ortificial moon will serve as a means
of retaliatory action ... or a mighty force for peace.
Pointing by Jack Coggins

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